Tripping Down the Aisle
by bluebottlebutterfly
Summary: James and Lily have decided to make it official. But between the Order, Gideon Prewett, and the fact that they can't agree on anything; that aisle looks pretty far away...with Jealous!James, Frazzled!Lily, Flirty!Sirius, Traitor!Peter, and that inevitable
1. A Proposal

Summary: James and Lily have decided to make it official. But between the Order, Gideon Prewett, and the fact that they can't agree on anything; that aisle looks pretty far away...with Jealous!James, Frazzled!Lily, Flirty!Sirius, Traitor!Peter, and that inevitable Marauder-orchestrated bachelor party. There's no need to bring champagne--they've got plenty.

Tripping Down the Aisle

***

Chapter One: A Proposal

***

James Potter stared at the door of the coffee shop over his cup, willing it to open, willing her to come in. Of course, this didn't work, as it never did. She was late, that was all there was to it. He'd just have to wait. For another thirty minutes, until she got there, and then they would argue about her lack of punctuality, and they would both go home angry, and the ring would stay in his pocket for another week. 

Another week. 

He'd bought the ring two months ago. He'd opened up another account at Gringott's, one she didn't know about, and had saved money for this ring for a little under a year. It is quite hard, James found, to hide an engagement ring from your girlfriend when she lives with you, shares a room with you, works in the same building with you. Thus, he had transfigured it into a Quidditch banner and hung it over their bed. 

She hated the banner. 

He hoped that this was not a bad omen.

James lifted the cup to his lips but didn't drink. It was August; far too hot for coffee. A coffee shop--in August, no doubt--was a horrible place to ask her to marry him. Stupid. But he had been planning to ask her this morning, as soon as she was dressed for work and was trying to leave the house (she never wanted to leave; he liked making it hard for her). But that hadn't worked out; she had spent thirty minutes longer than usual in the shower, and he had lost his nerve. He had blurted out to her that he wanted to ask her something, but then choked on the words when she pressed him. He'd just said that it could wait, and he'd see her after work. She'd asked him to name a time and a place, and the first place that came to mind was this one.

James was exceptionally good at doing stupid things. 

The bell attached to the door clanged suddenly, making him jump as it heralded someone's arrival. He met the green eyes of a flustered, red haired woman in a blue robe. She flashed him an apologetic smile and made her way over to him. 

"I'm sorry," she said, leaning down to kiss him in greeting before taking the seat across from him. "Work kept me--but you know that--how was your day?" 

She reached for his coffee cup and took a sip, grimaced, and added, "This is cold. How long have you been waiting?" 

Lie or tell the truth? If he told the truth, she would feel even more guilty than she already was, and he hated that. If he lied, she'd know he was lying and an argument would ensue as to why he felt he couldn't tell her anything. "It's no big deal," James told her. That was a good answer, good answer: informative, yet evasive. 

She sighed and, as she heated the coffee with her wand, said, "I'm sorry. How was your day, at least?" 

He shrugged. He'd taken the day off today without telling her, to prepare himself for this, to fine-tune how he was going to segue into it, what he'd say, when to pull out the ring. But now, as she sat in front of him, he could hardly remember his own name, much less the speech he'd planned. "It was okay. Reports, you know." 

"Nothing I have to worry about?" She added sugar, looking sternly up at him. She hated his job, hated how he sometimes didn't come home until all hours of the morning, hated how she had to worry for his life. He hated that about it too. 

"No," James told her. "Nothing." And this was the truth; as he hadn't even been there today, there was no reason for her to worry for him. 

She leaned back in her chair and took a sip of his coffee, surveying him, trying to tell if he was lying or not. She usually could tell just by looking at him; she knew him far too well. He seemed to have passed her inspection, because she set down the coffee and rubbed her temples. "I hate wondering whether or not you're going to come home," she muttered. 

Not this conversation again. No, no, no. "Don't wonder, then. Be optimistic." 

"I can't." 

"Lil, can we talk about this later?" 

Lily glanced up at him. He hadn't called her 'Lil' since they were eighteen, when she told him how much she hated it. 

"Okay," she said reluctantly. "What do you want to talk about, then?" 

James took his coffee back from her and took slow, measured sips. He set it down, and said, "Lily, I love you." 

Her brows furrowed in confusion. It wasn't that he never said this, he did, every morning before he left for work. But he rarely--if ever--said it in public. "James, what's wrong?" 

"Nothing's wrong." 

"Surely, something's wrong, because you just said you loved me in front of about thirty people, you brought me to a coffee shop in August, and you were acting very odd this morning. What's the matter?" 

He was wondering when she'd bring up the coffee shop. "Nothing's the matter." 

She leaned back in her chair again, arms folded over her chest, eyes boring into his skeptically. "Okay," she said slowly. "Okay, you're going somewhere with this." 

"I would, if you would stop trying to guess what I'm doing and just listen." 

"You're not saying anything worth listening to." 

"Lily, I'm trying to ask you to marry me, is that worth listening to?" 

There was a ringing silence, in which she stared at him, her mouth slightly open. "You're what?" she repeated. 

"Asking you to marry me," he said, quite lamely. 

The color was draining out of her face. "You--you are?" 

"Well, look," James said hurriedly, leaning across the table to try to make the conversation a little more private, as people had started turning around to try to get a glimpse of them when they heard the words 'ask you to marry me', 

"We've been together what, three years now?" 

"There isn't a time limit on a relationship, James, you don't have to get married after a certain amount of—" 

"I know that, but, Lily, I can't imagine myself with anyone but you. I can't go a day without seeing you, I can't go two _hours_ without seeing you, and--and I want to finalize that." 

She was looking down at him, her eyes wide with surprise. "We're twenty," she told him flatly. 

"I know." 

"That's really young to be getting married." 

"Does it matter?" 

"My father will kill you." 

"He likes me." 

"Not enough to let you marry me, I promise." 

A smile was twitching at the corners of her mouth. He was breaking her. _Show her the ring._

James reached into his pocket and slid the ring box across the table to her. "Look at this." 

Her eyes darted from him to the box and back again, and slowly, she took the box and opened it. "This must have cost you a fortune," she said quietly, staring him in the eyes again. 

"You don't need to worry about how much it cost; I paid for it, and you deserve it." 

She looked back down at the ring and shook her head. "James Potter, you are out of your mind." 

"Is that a yes?" 

Lily smiled at him. "Of course it is." 

***

A/N: Ok, I know there questions would come up, so I'm just gonna nip that in the bud:

How far will I write to? Just the wedding. For this story.

How many chappies will there be? Expect at least 10. And by 10 I mean 20.

Will there be stalker journals in this? Not exactly… 

Oh, and thank Cassie, cause she's the one that posted this, seeing as how I am internet-less. Actually, she is the one that is typing this, so I (As in Ashley) have no control over what is being said as an a/n. All I (as in Ashley) know is that she is reading and typing this while I am talking to her on the phone.


	2. Yoko, you're breaking up the band

Tripping Down the Aisle

Chapter Two; "Yoko, you're breaking up the band"

~*~

Lily sat opposite James, playing chess and winning spectacularly. In between captures punctuated by James's frequent obscenities, she was debating with him how to tell their friends and family. 

"I mean, I'm really not kidding," Lily said, frowning as James moved a pawn two spaces to the left of her queen. "My father will kill you." 

"I'm trained," James yawned, leaning back in his chair and adjusting his glasses as he waited for her move. "I can take him." 

Lily smiled dimly as she captured his king and waved it in front of his face in playful triumph. He took the piece from her and threw it across the room. 

"Stop gloating." 

"Stop losing." 

James stuck his tongue out at her, and studied her intently for a few moments while she started picking up pieces and putting them back into the box. After about a minute, she finally looked up and realized what he was doing. Flushing a little, she asked, "What?"

He shook his head, smiling a little and said, "I can tell your parents, if you want." 

Lily paused. "No, I'll tell them. It's--I'll be fine. Really. If they react badly, I can always tell them you got me pregnant or something." 

"Because that would make them react so much better!" 

"But if I tell them I'm pregnant, then they'll blame it completely on you and understand that I have to marry you, that I don't have any choice in the matter."

"And then we'd have to have a child magically materialize after nine months."

She bit her lip. "That is a bit of a flaw." 

"Indeed."

Lily sighed, then brightened. "Or," she said hopefully, "or, I can just not tell them at all. Wait until we're gone on our honeymoon, then Sirius can tell them. They'll take it out on him, and by the time we get back, they'll be completely over it!"

James snorted as he stood up and ruffled her hair before heading down the hall to their bedroom. "Oh, yes. Your mother will just be thrilled that she didn't get to see her daughter on her wedding day. And your father will be ecstatic that he didn't have to walk you down the aisle." 

Lily followed him into the room and flung herself down onto the bed, where James was sitting and putting on his pajamas. "Sirius could walk me down the aisle," she said thoughtfully, propping her head on her hands. 

James laughed heartily. "You want my best friend to walk you down the aisle? Have you met him?"

She smiled. "Well, he's the only one of your friends who would do it. He loves the attention."

"Are you saying walking you down the aisle for all of ten seconds will get him more attention than being my best man for the whole day?" James finished dressing and flopped himself down on the bed next to her, looking inquisitively at her, eyebrows raised.

"I hate to break it to you, but the bride is always more important than the groom on her wedding day," Lily told him, grinning. 

"Well, that's not very fair, is it? The groom has to go through all the work!"

"How so?"

"Well, let's take us for example." 

Lily sighed. "Oh, you're going to go off on one of your self-gratifying 'reasons why Lily should've realized why James is a veritable sex god earlier' rants, aren't you?"

He ignored her. "First, there was the challenge of getting you to go out with me in the first place."

"Which," Lily interrupted, "wouldn't've taken nearly as long as it did if you hadn't been such a self-centered prick."

"Or if you hadn't been such a stubborn wench, but I digress," James continued, his tone dignified. Lily scoffed, but allowed him to continue. "And then, there's keeping a relationship up for three years when all we seem to do is pick fights with each other--"

"Again, which wouldn't happen so often if you weren't a prick."

"Or if you weren't a stubborn wench."

Lily smiled affectionately. "Don't you just love it when things go full circle like that?"

"And then there's working up the nerve to propose to you."

Lily sat up now and looked at him curiously. "How long did it take you to ask me?"

"Really?"

"Really."

James sat up as well and sighed. "I was going to propose to you on your birthday."

Lily's eyes widened in surprise. "My birthday was two months ago."

"I know. But I couldn't find a ring by then, so that didn't work out."

"It took you two months to find a ring?"

"No, I found that ring," he touched the one on her finger lightly, "the weekend after your birthday. That Sunday when I went out for drinks with Sirius and didn't come home for three hours?"

Lily paused for a second as she tried to remember. "Oh, yes. I fought with you about that, didn't I?"

He grinned. "Yeah, you did."

She winced. "I'm sorry."

"Nah, it's okay. It shouldn't've taken me that long to pick one out, anyway. I'm just really, really particular. Anyway, after that, it took me two months to actually ask you. I've started to about eight times before you either had to leave or I just couldn't say anything once you were in front of me." He sucked in a breath and gave a shaky laugh. "Believe it or not, that still happens a lot. With anything."

"It does?" she asked, surprised. 

"Yeah," James replied, smiling. "You make me nervous, still."

And that, somehow, was better than the ring.

***

The path leading up to Lily's parents' front door had always seemed so long when she was younger; it always took her a long time to walk it. But now, it seemed as though there was hardly a path at all. In a ridiculously short amount of time, she was standing in front of the door, James beside her. 

She knocked once, then opened the door. James followed her in, then closed the door behind her. The living room was empty, but Lily could hear her mother's beloved food processor whirring and the sound of her father's voice coming from the kitchen. 

Lily bit her lip. James, sensing her anxiety, leaned over and kissed the side of her head. "You'll be fine," he assured her. 

"I'm not worried about me," she replied in a low voice. "I'm just hoping I won't have to bury you." 

He laughed. "It'll be fine," he repeated. 

Just then, Lily's mother called from the kitchen, "Petunia, is that you?" 

Lily sucked in a breath and pushed open the kitchen door. "No, Mum, it's me," she said, unnecessarily. 

Mrs. Evans turned from the counter, where she was tipping walnuts into the food processor, and smiled. "What prompts this visit? Oh, and James, hello, dear," she added, just as he stepped into the kitchen as well. 

"Hello," he returned, then, turning to Lily, said accusingly, "You shut the door in my face." 

"I'm sorry," she muttered. 

Mr. Evans was eyeing his daughter over his spectacles. "Lily, you look awfully peaky. Are you all right?" 

Peaky does not begin to describe it. "I'm fine." She shot her father a weak smile. "Really." 

"And Mr. Potter," Lily's father continued, nodding to him. Mr. Evans had always called James by his surname, as though telling him not to get too comfortable. It was true that Mr. Evans did like him, but mostly against his will. James smiled at Lily's father. 

"Oh, Mum, are these chocolate chip?" Lily asked, crossing the kitchen to where her mother was removing a tray of delightfully smelling cookies from the oven. 

"No," Mrs. Evans replied. "They're oatmeal raisin. Lily, could you get a plate for me--thank you." 

Mrs. Evans and Lily discussed the cookies for close to ten whole minutes, while James hovered near the door, too nervous as to Mr. Evans's reaction to what was to come to go too near him. He was hoping Lily would get a move on. 

As Lily and her mother started to look through Mrs. Evans's recipe books, James started to get slightly annoyed with her. He was just about to tell them himself when Mrs. Evans suddenly gasped and grabbed Lily's left hand. 

"Lily!" she exclaimed. "Where did you get that ring?" 

"Ring?" Mr. Evans repeated harshly. "Ring?" 

"Yes, Richard, there's a diamond--

"A diamond?" Mr. Evans repeated, turning to James, who became very interested in his shoes. 

Lily was stammering, but not really making any sense. "Well, see-see, Daddy, the thing--the thing about it is--" 

"But the silver lining is," James chimed in, rather unexpectedly, "is that she's not pregnant." For Lily had been looking a little desperate, and he had been thinking that she might head in that direction soon. 

Mrs. Evans turned to him, humor sparking in her eyes in a way that reminded James muchly of Lily. "And how is that a silver lining?" 

"You really have to want to see it," James told her. 

***

Telling Lily's parents turned out to be nothing compared to telling James's friends. 

The three other Marauders sat in James and Lily's living room, on the sofa, looking up at the couple with expressions of polite confusion and interest. Their gatherings were never so formal. 

"See, the--the thing is," James began, ruffling his hair, "I did something."

"Did you--?"

"No," James interrupted. "No, I--I asked Lily to marry me." 

There was a lot of silence that followed this proclamation, in which Sirius's head whipped wildly to face James, then Lily, then James again; Remus beamed brightly at them; and Peter sat there, jaw scraping the floor. 

Sirius broke the silence first by demanding of Lily, "And what did you say?" 

"I said 'yes', you dolt," she said. "If I'd said 'no', do you honestly think we would be announcing it to you?" 

"You said 'yes'?" Sirius repeated disbelievingly. 

Lily stuck out her hand so that her engagement ring was practically under Sirius's nose. "I said 'yes'," she told him. 

Sirius turned now to Peter. "Is she crazy?" 

"Like a straw," Peter agreed.

"Why am I crazy?" Lily wanted to know. 

"Yeah, why is she crazy?" James echoed. He'd stayed relatively quiet, so his addition to the conversation, while not entirely unexpected, was still a little surprising. 

"Only, it's James, isn't it?" Sirius smiled, looking a little uncomfortable (for once) to be the center of attention. "I just...I never thought you'd marry him. Ever." 

"Well, thank you, Sirius," James said icily. "I really needed that shot of confidence." 

Lily didn't seem to be offended by this, but was looking at Sirius in an oddly understanding way. "Come with me," she said. 

Sirius eyed her wand, which was on the mantle of the fireplace, warily. "You know, I don't think I want to." 

Lily followed his gaze and grinned. "I'm not going to duel you," she assured him, adding as an afterthought, "At least, I don't think I will. I just wanted to talk to you." 

Sirius did not know what strange psycho-babble Lily was expecting to get out of him, but he was not a very talkative person when it came to feelings and stuff. "Um," he said. "Um, okay." 

He followed her down the short hallway, where she opened the last door and waited for him to enter before closing the door. 

It was their bedroom; and while Sirius had been in here before, it had only been three times, and on none of those occasions was Lily at home. Somehow, standing in the room that he'd made jokes about with his best friend with the girl he'd made the jokes about did not seem very ethically right to him. 

Lily didn't seem to feel this way; she was bustling around what Sirius recognized as James's side of the room (it was the one with all the Quidditch posters), picking up the clothes strewn all over the floor and dropping them into a laundry basket on top of his dresser. 

"Can't you do that with magic?" Sirius asked her. 

"I would," Lily replied, gathering up some of James's socks, "but I left my wand in the living room, because you were afraid I would use it against you. Sorry for the mess," she added hastily, "but, you know, James lives here. And...well, you lived with him for seven years, you know what he's like." 

"He's a slob," Sirius agreed. 

Lily shot him a dim smile over a pile of James's shirts. "Well, you bet your life he'll be picking up my underwear for a week after this." 

"I'm sure he'll have no objections to that." 

Lily smiled again, then leaned against James's dresser, pointing to the bed. "You can sit, if you like." 

"No!" Sirius answered, so quickly that he was sure he'd been rude. "I--I mean, I'm fine, thanks." 

Lily didn't seem offended, rather, very amused. "All right, then. Obviously, you don't want me marrying James. Anyone could tell that. Only, I'd just like to know the reason why." 

"Now, I never said that I didn't want you marrying him--" 

"You didn't have to. I'm not offended--yet--I just want to know why. That's it."

"Um. It's not that I don't want you married. I...well, I don't know. Okay." Sirius seemed to have been hit by an epiphany, because he began to pace the stretch of carpet in front of James and Lily's bed, waving his hands for emphasis as he spoke. "Okay, James and I have been friends forever, right?" 

"Right." 

"Well...married people hang out with other married people." 

Lily blinked at him. "What?"

"Married people hang out with other married people." 

"Sirius, we don't even know any married people." 

"Frank and Alice," Sirius shot at her, referring to a pair of Aurors, who were indeed married. 

Lily seemed visibly flustered by this. "Well--Frank and Alice barely have enough time for each other, let alone for James and me!" 

"Exactly! That's what it'll be like with me and James." 

Lily was confused. "I'm sorry?" 

"We'll keep missing each other, you know? He'll be busy this weekend, because you're having dinner with your family, or he'll have to miss a Quidditch game because you're going shopping for new bed linens or--" 

"What's wrong with my linens?" 

"For the love of God, Lily, nothing's wrong with your linens! I'm just--I'm just saying." 

Lily bit her lip and nodded slowly, thinking. "So...so you think I'll be that demanding?" 

Oh, hell. Sirius felt, for just a minute, exactly what it was like to be James: mind racing, wondering what to say to that that won't get you in trouble...what do you say to that?! "Um...no. No, I don't think you'll be like that exactly, but--but he is going to be your husband, isn't he? Husbands have to be around to--to fix leaks under the sink and calibrate the thermostat on your refrigelator--" 

"Refrigerator." 

"Yes, that." 

"I don't need James to do that for me. I'm better at that kind of stuff than he is, anyway." 

"I believe that." 

She smiled, and he sighed. "I'm being stupid, aren't I?" 

"No. It's a valid concern; but I'm telling you: just because James and I are going to be married, it doesn't mean it'll change your friendship at all. Nor will it change any of my friendships. It'll be a change, yes, but change is good." 

"Right. Change is good." 

Change is good.

***


	3. The Order

Tripping Down the Aisle

Chapter Three: The Order 

***

**__**

Monday, 19 September

Ten months, five days

The day had started out badly, and it was becoming inevitable that it would continue and end that way. 

Both James and Lily had awakened later than usual, and an argument ensued as to who was at fault for this amongst a flurry of clothes and shoes. 

"You put an extra blanket on the bed last night," James pointed out, pulling a shirt over his head and reaching for his watch on his bedside table at the same time, a trick he had perfected as a teenager. 

Lily scoffed as she rummaged around in their shared closet for the mate to the shoe she was wearing. "And what, pray tell, does that have to do with anything?" 

"Well," James said, "you know I can't wake up if I'm comfortable." 

"Ah," Lily muttered derisively, abandoning her efforts with that pair of shoes and selecting a different set, "I should invest in one of those self-ejecting beds for you, shouldn't I?" 

"Wedding present." 

"I'll look into it." Lily stood up, having successfully put on both shoes, and went to her dresser to pick out a pair of earrings. 

"What do you want?" 

"For what?" Lily turned around, having selected a pair of gold studs, and faced James quizzically as he unenthusiastically ran a hand through his hair--his version of combing. 

"A wedding present." 

She smiled inwardly. "You don't have to get me anything, you prat." 

"Yes, I do. If I don't, my mother will tell me I've failed my marriage already, and you know how much I hate disappointing my mother." 

"It keeps me awake at night sometimes," Lily responded dryly. She leaned against her dresser, surveying James with a small smile on her face. "James, love," she began, her tone slightly patronizing. "Love" was about the only pet name she would accept, deeming the others too sappy and patronizing for her taste. 

"What?" 

"I know I wear your things, but I really don't think it goes both ways." 

Annoyed, James snapped, "What are you talking about?" 

"You're wearing my blouse. Three Broomsticks for lunch today?" 

As James pulled the offending blouse off of him, muttering something that sounded quite a bit like "clucking bell" as he did so, Lily chortled softly and went to their shared closet. She disappeared in it for a few moments before emerging with one of his shirts in either hand. "Brown or red?" she asked. 

He took the red soundlessly and she tossed the brown haphazardly back into the closet, closing the door as he pulled it on. She stood by his dresser, fiddling with the handles and neatening up the surface of it a bit until he came up behind her, putting his arms around her waist and kissing her neck lightly. She smiled, and turned to face him, burying her face in his chest and noting that the shirt she'd given him was quite wrinkled. She was just about to tell him so when he said, "And the Three Broomsticks sounds good to me. When can you go?" 

Lily sighed, wishing he wouldn't remind her of work _now,_ wishing he wouldn't say anything at _all._ "I don't know," she replied, her voice muffled. "I'm still working on that...charm...and it's got a lot of faults still, and I...well, I might be able to get away at around...two?" 

"Two it is." Even if it was awfully late for lunch for James's taste, he knew better than to challenge anything Lily said, especially if he wanted to fit in some snogging before she left. Which was, indeed, the case this morning. Which was the case almost every morning. 

Lily lifted her head from his chest, put her arms around his neck, and rested her forehead against his chin. "I hate my job," she muttered. 

She said this at least twice a week. "But you're wonderful at it," he reminded her. 

"I suppose," she said grudgingly. 

James looked over her head at the clock on the wall. "Oy," he said. 

"What?" 

"Time." 

Lily groaned. "Can't--can't we just stay here...?" 

"No. Go." 

"I hate that you don't have to leave for another half hour. It's very unfair." 

"I know." He removed her arms from his neck and she stepped away from him reluctantly. 

"Very unfair," she repeated. 

"Uh-huh." 

Lily smiled, and he returned the gesture. She leaned forward and tugged on a lock of his hair, a comfortable, familiar action that he'd started quite a long time ago. "Don't get yourself killed," she said. 

"I'll try." He tugged on his own hair. "Now _go_!" 

"All right, all right." Lily picked up her wand from where it lay on his bedside table. She pointed it at him, eyes meaningful. "Leave soon." 

"Yes, mum." 

She stuck her tongue out at him. "I love you, you stupid prat." 

"I love you too, you controlling wench." 

Lily paused, surveying him again. "James, can't you do something to your hair--?" 

"No. And you like it better this way anyway." 

"Oh, that's true." 

"Now go!" 

With one last sigh, Lily Apparated, leaving him alone in the bedroom. James flopped himself down onto the bed, smiling fondly. He gazed aimlessly around the room, his eyes settling on his bedside table. 

"Oh, hell," he muttered, the smile fading from his face. 

She'd taken his wand. _Again_. 

***

"I'm just saying, Lily, before you leave: _check your wand_." 

"You'd think it'd be that easy, but--" 

"_It is_!" 

Lily sighed and buried her face in her hands. "James, I'm sorry," she intoned, her voice muffled through her hands. 

"I really, really am, but I'm very busy right now, so we'll just have to continue this at lunch." 

"At lunch," he repeated. 

"Yes." She looked up from her hands. "I've got thirty reports to look over, plus that charm, and..." 

Thinking that this was not very fair, that _he_ always listened to _her_ when she decided to go off on one of her tirades, James mumbled, "Yeah, I know," and ran a hand through his hair. 

Lily bit her lip and glanced up at the clock hanging on her office wall. "You're going to be late, by the way," she said. 

"I'm already late," James told her, "mostly because I had to go two floors out of my way to get my wand back." 

"Tell it to your superiors, James," Lily responded tartly, getting a little tired of this, "because, despite the laid back atmosphere of this office--" she waved her hand at her overflowing inbox, the filing cabinet that stood in complete disarray, the wilting plant on her desk, and the five Ministry Interdepartmental notices next to it-- "I am quite busy, and I have a deadline." 

Never one to give up that easily, James retaliated, "I don't know what kind of excuses your superiors accept, but mine will never believe that my girlfriend took the wrong wand when she left this morning." 

"What do you want me to do? Write you a note excusing you from being late and put it on your shirt like a five-year-old?" 

"Should I put your name on your wand?" 

"You know what you should do?" 

"What's that?" 

"Go away. I'll talk to you at lunch." Her voice was bordering on hysterical, which told him when her words wouldn't that it really was time to go, unless he wanted her to start crying, which he never wanted.

"Fine," he muttered derisively, picking up his wand. He held it up to her as if to say, 'See? Mine', and left the room.

***

When James entered the Main Auror office, he saw Sirius, blue eyes widened in that falsely innocent-expression he always wore when trouble loomed, talking with Alastor Moody. As James drew nearer to them, he could hear Sirius saying, "Really, sir. Swallowed a basilisk egg. He's probably at St. Mungo's right now, undergoing emergency extraction." 

James stopped walking immediately, squeezed his eyes shut, and groaned inwardly, wondering if it was too late to go apologize to Lily, snog her in her office, and convince her to go home with him... 

"Potter!" 

Eyes open. Mad-Eye Moody was advancing on him, magical eye spinning maniacally in its socket. James, who still had not gotten used to this, barely held back a shudder. "Yes?" he said, hoping his expression was _believably_ innocent. 

"Mind telling me what time it is?" 

James leaned a little to the right so that he could see the clock that hung on Sirius's cubicle wall, the one with a chicken on it that Sirius kept just to spite him. Looking at this clock involved some quick math, as the clock was twenty-six minutes (exactly) behind, and Sirius refused to change it. "It's 9:37, sir," he said. 

"Funny thing, that," Moody growled, "because your shift starts at exactly 9:00." 

James ruffled his hair in the back nervously. "I know, sir." _Actually_, he was thinking, _since I'm here now, it starts at 9:37..._

"Do you know what happens when you're late in this department, Potter?" 

"I'm hoping it has nothing to do with the gallows," James muttered, wincing as soon as he said it for fear of being hexed. 

Moody didn't hex him, but scowled. "You think this is funny, Potter?" 

"It's not funny at all, sir, I'm just stupid." 

"You're not stupid, Potter." 

"I...I'm pretty stupid," James insisted. 

"I'll vouch for that," Sirius volunteered from his cubicle. 

Both James and Moody ignored him. 

"Potter, if you were stupid, you would never have passed the necessary tests to become an Auror." 

James was silent, wishing that he hadn't said anything in the first place. No matter what Moody said, _that_ had been stupid. 

"I trust this won't happen again?" Moody continued. 

James vehemently shook his head, feeling it safer in the long run to just keep his mouth shut. 

Moody nodded and left the room. 

Sighing, James sank into his desk chair, rubbing his eyes behind his glasses. Sirius popped up over the wall separating his cubicle from his best friend's and said conversationally, "Didn't even try to use my excuse, did you?" 

"It was a horrible excuse."

"Not with the right backstory. See, I was thinking that you could've told him that your girlfriend was trying to kill you. Anyone would believe it, really." 

"He'd throw her in Azkaban," James pointed out. "She wouldn't be too pleased about that." 

Sirius waved a hand. "Minor casualty," he declared, grinning impishly. "What'd she do this morning?" 

James yawned and reclined in his chair. "Took my wand." 

"That wench," Sirius said casually, examining his fingernails. 

"Mmm." 

"Oh," Sirius said, as though he had just remembered something. He leaned closer to James, lowering his voice conspiratorially, "Meeting. Seven." 

James's face darkened. "Okay." 

"Tell Lily?" 

He sighed again. "Yeah." 

"Or are you not speaking to her today?" 

"No, I'm meeting her for lunch at two, unless I get called out. I'll tell her then." 

"Started making wedding plans yet?" 

"Nah. Set the date, but that's about it." 

"Oh, when? I'll mark my calendar." Sirius grinned. He'd gotten the newest Veelas of the Beach calendar yesterday, and it was delicious.

"June twenty-fourth." 

Sirius scrunched up his nose. "That date rings a bell somewhere." 

"Day we graduated from school, for one." 

Sirius considered it. "No, that's not it." 

James flushed furiously and beckoned Sirius closer and whispered something in his ear. 

Sirius drew away, grinning brilliantly. "_That_ was it." 

James, still blushing, mumbled something that sounded like "one track mind" under his breath as he reached inside a drawer for a file. 

"So," Sirius said, his tone suddenly brisk and businesslike, "should I schedule the bachelor party for the twenty-third, then? Or will you want to actually be coherent at your wedding?" 

James dropped the file, sending papers flying in every direction. "Bachelor party?" he asked faintly. 

"Yes, Prongs," Sirius said dryly. "A bachelor party. Surely you remember what a bachelor is." 

"Of course I _remember_ what a bachelor is," James snapped, aiming his wand at the contents of the file and gathering them back up again. "But there is no way in hell you're giving me a bachelor party." 

"Sure there is. Why else do you think I agreed to be your best man?" 

"Lily would kill me," James said matter-of-factly, adjusting his glasses. 

"Nah, she wouldn't. It's tradition!" 

"This is Lily." 

"Oh, that's true. Remember when she got mad at me just because I gave you a subscription to the Veelas of the Beach magazine?"

James snorted. "Yes, whatever was she thinking?"

***

James had been fully intending to yell at Lily as soon as he met up with her in the Three Broomsticks, but when she did finally arrive (fifteen minutes late; even more reason to be angry at her), he found that he didn't want to yell at her so much as hug her. 

Lily was carrying six folders, all stuffed to the brim, and had her hair in a very messy ponytail--she had missed several strands of hair, something that would usually annoy her to no end, but now she looked too upset to even consider what her hair looked like. In truth, she looked quite close to tears. 

"Okay," Lily said, setting the folders down carefully on the table in front of her and sitting down with a very big sigh, "yell at me." 

"What would I want to yell at you for?" 

She glanced up at him. "For making you late, Jimmy, don't be stupid." 

She knew how much he hated 'Jimmy'. His mother called him that, and he'd never had the heart to tell her that it always reminded him of the fat, noisy, quite evil pig his neighbor (indeed, the one with the chicken) had owned with the same name. James closed his eyes and said, "Lil, I don't want to fight with you." 

"I don't want you to call me Lil, but we all can't get what we want."

The drinks arrived as James and Lily stared stonily at each other, both refusing to break the other's gaze. Madame Rosmerta, their server, had always liked both of them, and always stopped to talk, but, noting the harsh mood that hung over them, walked very hastily away. 

Lily looked away first for once, opened the folder on top of the stack, and began to work. James, noticing what she was doing, took the quill away from her. 

"No," he said. 

"I'm sorry, Jimmy, but you are not my father, and cannot tell me what to do. Give me the quill." 

"You're overworked." 

"I know. Give me the quill." 

"You need a break." 

"I'm taking a break for our honeymoon, is that not enough for you? Give. Me. The. Quill." There was a dangerously steely note in her voice now, but James ignored it.

"I'm not talking a vacation--though you could do with one of those, as well. I'm just talking about having a nice, pleasant lunch with me, possibly with some snogging..." 

"You just ruined all chances of snogging, for today and the rest of the week. James Thomas Potter, give me the quill."

"Ooh, middle name and everything," James said in a slightly mocking voice, enjoying this newfound power he held over her. He twirled the quill in between his fingers. "What's it worth to you?" 

Lily wasn't listening, but had pulled out her wand. Within seconds, she had Summoned it and was now imitating his twirling. Fluttering her eyelashes, she said, "So, James, what's your life worth? Because right now, I'm about to decapitate you with my wand." 

"The actual wand or a spell?" 

She smiled sweetly. "Whichever hurts more." 

"Are you quite done?" 

Lily sighed and set her wand down. "I suppose. Let's talk about something else." 

And that was the thing about their arguments. They could be furious at each other one minute, then the next, chattering over ice cream. 

James scanned his mind for a topic that would not make Lily mad. "Um...Sirius asked me about wedding stuff today." 

"Yeah? Did you tell him that he's not allowed to bring you near alcohol for at least 72 hours before the wedding? And that that rule applies to him as well?" 

James chuckled a little and ruffled his hair. "Funny thing," he said. "Sirius decided that he wants to throw me a bachelor party..." 

Lily raised her eyebrows over the rim of her glass. "And you told him..." 

"Nothing, really. I kinda told him that I didn't think you'd like that very much, but you know Sirius. Doesn't listen to anyone." 

"He listens to you," Lily pointed out. 

"Most of the time," James amended. "But not all of the time."

***

The Order meeting was subdued, as it usually was. The small room was full to the brim, most people sitting in assigned seats around a long, rectangular wooden table, but some were leaning against walls or half-sitting on windowsills.   


Dumbledore stood at the head of the table, looking as serene and omnipotent as he always did. He never had to yell, but commanded attention merely by...being. 

Moody rose from his seat now, looking grave and slightly more (what? frazzled? crazed? lazy-eyed?) than usual. "Three families in Kent," he sighed. "Broad daylight..."

"Any leads? Survivors?" 

Moody shook his head. "None," he said sullenly. "None at all." 

"And where were your Aurors, if it was broad daylight? Our Order members?" 

There was a slight ripple in the room as said members shifted uncomfortably. "They were Muggles, all of them," Moody said flatly. "And they were the only people around for miles. We couldn't've known." 

"So how did you find out?" 

"A sister of one of the families was coming for tea. She's a witch, saw the Mark, alerted us immediately." 

Dumbledore straightened, looking slightly alarmed. "Did she see...?" 

"No," Moody replied abruptly. "No, she had enough sense to stay away." 

"We'll need to talk to her," Dumbledore declared firmly, scanning the room. His eyes landed on Sirius Black, who was looking at his hands. "Sirius!" 

Sirius looked up from his lap and said, "Y-yes?" 

"I'll need you to talk to the woman. Ask her exactly what she saw. Moody will give you her information. I'll need the results of that interview by Saturday." 

Sirius nodded. 

"Is there anything else?" Dumbledore asked, looking as though he sincerely hoped not.

No one spoke up, so Dumbledore declared the meeting adjourned. 

People were socializing now, most talking in low voices about the happenings in Kent. Lily, James noted, was talking to Gideon Prewett....blonde haired, freckled, green-eyed, _pretty boy_ Prewett...he had her hand on her shoulder--what was his hand doing on her shoulder?--and was talking in a low voice to her. As James got closer to them (for he was definitely going to break up this little love-fest), he saw that Lily had her hands over her face--was she crying? He quickened his pace. 

"--it happens to everyone," Pretty-Boy was saying to Lily in a low voice.   


"I know," Lily responded, her voice muffled and thick. "I know, but it's just... _so much_ and I..." 

James got to them, flashed Prewett a warning look and pulled Lily to him. "Hey, what's wrong?" he asked her. 

"Nothing," she said thickly. "Nothing's wrong. It's just...work...and I'm..." 

"Overworked," he told her flatly. "I've told you about this." 

She looked up from his shirt, reddened eyes flashing. She had opened her mouth to say something when Pretty-Boy Prewett interrupted. 

"He's right, Lily," he said. "You are overworked. You need a vacation." 

James wanted to hit him. How could he know what was best for Lily? "I keep telling her that." 

"Lily is right here," Lily said, all traces of tears gone now, replaced by a set jaw and narrowed eyes. 

"Well, Lily, if you ever need a place to vacation," Prewett said, in a desperate attempt to lighten the mood, "my family's got a little place in France. You're welcome to use it, if you like." 

While James wanted to throttle him, Lily merely looked surprised. "Oh...well, see...that's not necessary, because--" 

"Because my family's got a place in Venice," James spoke up. 

Lily shot him a briefly quizzical look, knowing full well that he owned no such thing. However, Lily was extremely loyal, and usually knew when to agree with what he said and when to start arguments. "Right," she said slowly. "A place in Venice." 

"It's beautiful in the summer," James added. "Warm. We've got flowers in the back that you can smell in the master bedroom as soon as you wake up...isn't that right, love?" He carefully--though perhaps not so subtly--emphasized the name. 

"Right," Lily repeated dully. "Honeysuckle, isn't it?"

"I think so," James agreed airily, nodding. 

Prewett, who looked mildly amused by this exchange, said, "Ah, well, if you ever need a change of scenery, Lily, you're welcome to it." 

Lily smiled wanly. "Thank you, Gideon, but James's place in Italy is just so wonderful that I cannot ever bear to leave it," she responded dryly. James noted the sarcasm, but plastered on a smile all the same.

Prewett nodded. "Oh, and congratulations on the engagement. You're a lucky man, Potter." 

James tightened his grip on Lily's waist. "I think so." 

Prewett nodded several more times, then looked down at his watch. "Well, look at the time. I really must be going...I'll see you all later." He smiled, waved, and Disapparated. 

Lily turned to him, arms folded. "When _will_ I be seeing this lovely place in Venice?" she queried, eyebrows raised. 

"I had to think fast!" _Of something better than stupid, stuffy France_. 

***

Hours after Lily had dropped off to sleep that night, James lay awake, replaying the conversation with Pretty-Boy Prewett in his head...trying to find subliminal messages, more like. 

__

You're a lucky man, Potter.

'Because, you know, if it weren't for the fact that Lily hasn't ever loved anyone but you in her whole life, and therefore, doesn't know that she deserves a million times better, you'd die alone'. 

Smug prick. 

__

Ah, well, if you ever need a change of scenery, Lily, you're welcome to it.

'If you ever get tired of this prat, come to me. I'm open twenty-four hours a day, and I never say no'. 

Condescending bastard. 

__

...my family's got a little place in France. You're welcome to use it, if you like.

'But only if you bring the whipped cream and ditch your boyfriend. I'll meet you there.' 

That conniving son of a bitch.

***

A/N: Okay, massive schnoogles to everyone who reviewed and/or waited this long. I'm so, so, so sorry that it took forever, but I had a lot of editing to do for this one. Hopefully the next ones will come quicker (I have up to seven written, and they're about the same length as this--five is my favorite, look out for that one). I promised myself that I _would_ finish by my birthday, and if I didn't, I wouldn't be allowed to watch _Friends _for a week. Today is my birthday, and here it is. :) 


	4. The Girl from Kent

Tripping Down the Aisle  
  
Chapter Four: The Girl from Kent  
  
*** Wednesday, 5 October Six months, nineteen days  
  
The girl from Kent was due at the upscale restaurant (where elderly women dripping in diamonds sat at the bar, keeping their pet Kneazles on short leashes while they drank tea from saucers; where expertly rich children as young as six perused the menu very seriously before deciding on rack of lamb or foie gras or something equally eloquent; where middle-aged men and their wives conversed tersely over coffee shot heavily with rum, trying to keep tight smiles on their faces so as to keep up appearances) any moment now. The place made Sirius deeply uncomfortable and reminded him horribly of his childhood. He was sure he'd been here before, probably attending some horrifically stuffy dinner party of his father's. He shuddered.  
  
Sirius compulsively checked his watch. 7:27. She was late--attempting to be fashionable, perhaps?--which made no sense, because she had set the time and the place. Had she known she would have been unable to attend this little get-together, why would she make him buy a new set of dress robes, gel his hair, and put on his most expensive cologne just to sit (he was doing a lot of sitting), looking pathetic as he glanced hopefully around the room and continually downed martini after martini?  
  
It made no sense.  
  
Sirius drummed his fingers on the table, whistling quietly so as not to disturb the large, shiny faced Chinese man at the table next to him, who had fallen asleep in his filet mignon. Sirius licked the tip of his index finger and slid it on the rim of his glass, making an eerie whistling sound- -  
  
"They frown upon that here," said a woman's voice, not sounding accusatory, but amused.  
  
Sirius looked up, ready to retaliate, but found he couldn't.  
  
The woman standing in front of him was not what would be considered beautiful by most standards. She was pretty, sure, but she wasn't beautiful. She was a little bit plain, with shoulder-length dark hair, set in tight ringlets, dark eyes, and cheeks so pink one would think she had just run a marathon--maybe she had ran to get here. But Sirius could not picture anyone running in a knee-length emerald green party dress, complete with gold heels and matching earrings, which was what she was wearing.  
  
"Hi," she said. "They said--up at the front--that you're Cyrus Black."  
  
"They're wrong," Sirius replied.  
  
The woman frowned. "Oh," she said, flushing even more, if that was possible. "I'm sorry, I--"  
  
"It's Sirius," he told her, standing up to shake her hand. "And you're Hestia?"  
  
She smiled. "Yeah," she responded brightly. "Yeah, I'm Hestia."  
  
Hestia had the handshake of a very weak little girl. With a little practice, he could firm it up. He just could not date delicate people; he was always afraid they'd break if he hugged them too hard...wait, what?  
  
Sirius shook himself. "Um, this is a nice place."  
  
Hestia glanced up from her menu, eyebrows raised. "No, it's not," she said, smiling. "I hate it here."  
  
"But when I asked you to name your favorite restaurant...."  
  
"I picked the first one that came to mind. I haven't been in England since I was seventeen." She returned to her menu, muttering, "I don't speak French..."  
  
"Mind if I ask why?"  
  
"If you think it pertains to your line of questioning."  
  
Sirius was startled; he'd actually forgotten that he was supposed to be doing something other than...well, truthfully, other than trying to determine what kind of underwear she was wearing (if any at all....). "Um," he said. "Um, yeah, I think that'd....pertain. To my line of questioning."  
  
Hestia set down her menu. "Well," she sighed, leaning back in her chair and folding her arms across her chest, "I ran away from home when I was sixteen, decided that I'd be better off in France."  
  
Sirius's eyebrows knitted together in confusion. "But...you just said that you don't speak French."  
  
"I never said I was right. I moved to Ireland not long after." She grinned. "They speak English there."  
  
Sirius resisted the urge to stuck his tongue out at her. "I know. Why'd you run away?"  
  
"Family troubles," she said, noncommittally picking up the menu again. "Mostly."  
  
"Um," Sirius said uncomfortably, taking a cue from James and running a hand through his hair, "I--I kinda need more than that....specifics, you know, Dumbledore is very..."  
  
Hestia smiled. "I forgot that I can't be detached about this, because this isn't a date. It's an interview. Um...my family was rich. Muggles, the whole lot of them. They didn't understand about my magical ability. They wanted me to be home for cotillions, my father's dinner parties--he was a politian; ran for Prime Minister in '59, lost, of course; spectuacularly-- and such. I hated it. Rebelled. I waited until the end of sixth year, went home with my best friend's family for the summer and never went home."  
  
"So you never graduated from Hogwarts?"  
  
"No, I did graduate. I just lived at friends' houses during the summers, and after graduation, I moved to France, like I said."  
  
Sirius folded his napkin in a preoccupied fashion. "I did the same thing. Sort of. Ran away the summer I was sixteen."  
  
"Really? Where'd you go?"  
  
"My best friend's house; his parents love me for some reason."  
  
Hestia smiled. "Yeah, I planned to stay at Sarah's--she was my best friend when I was that age--but...I caused too much trouble." Her smile turned mischievous.  
  
"What kind of trouble?"  
  
"I am sure that that doesn't pertain to your questioning."  
  
"You never know. You could've made enemies. What kind of trouble?"  
  
She hesitated, surveying him. "I had an affair."  
  
"With?" Sirius's interest was horribly piqued.  
  
Hestia sipped her water. "Sarah's father," she replied deliberately.  
  
Sirius paused, trying to figure out just what to say to that.  
  
Hestia made a face. "Okay, it wasn't as bad as it sounds; you don't have to look disgusted like that."  
  
"Well, how old was he?"  
  
"At the time?"  
  
"Of course at the time!"  
  
Hestia concentrated. "Well, I was seventeen, so he would've been...forty- two."  
  
"That's more than twice your age! Not to mention that it was illegal."  
  
"It didn't last very long, once I realized that Liam--that was Sarah's father--only wanted a piece of ass and something to rub in Sarah's mother's face. I didn't want to be that person. And besides, once Sarah found out--"  
  
"How did she find out?"  
  
"I told her," Hestia replied simply. "I told Sarah everything."  
  
"A stupid mistake, then."  
  
"No, it's just that teenage girls are different from teenage boys. Anyway, once I told her, she told her mother, her mother threw me out--divorced Liam. That's when I moved to France."  
  
"Do you remember Sarah's family's name?"  
  
Hestia paused, and appeared to be thinking. "You know, I'm not sure...why? What are you suggesting?"  
  
"Do you think there's any chance that Sarah's mother was still furious with you?"  
  
"After eleven years?" She scoffed. "I don't think so."  
  
"What kind of family was Sarah's?"  
  
Hestia frowned. "What do you mean?"  
  
"Like, were both of her parents magical? Did she come from a long line of witches and wizards?"  
  
"I don't think that matters," Hestia replied airily.  
  
Sirius sighed. "All right, fine. If you don't want to talk about that, then we could talk about your family."  
  
Hestia surveyed him for a moment over her water glass. "All right," she said briskly, setting the glass down. "What do you want to know?"  
  
***  
  
"She's just like me, James, d'you know that? I've never met a girl who was so much like me before! We like the same things, dislike the same things-- get this, get this James--she loves whipped cream. I love whipped cream! And--and she hates the Wasps. And you know I wish the Wasps would rot in hell. Her family--her family is almost exactly the same as mine, 'cept they're Muggles. We both ran away from home when we were sixteen. And---"  
  
"Whoa, slow down," James laughed, holding up a hand to stop his best friend's excited diatribe. "Breathe, Sirius."  
  
"And what does whipped cream and the Wasps have to do with the Order?" Lily queried from where she was sitting on the floor with folders spread out in front of her.  
  
James and Lily had elected to hire a wedding planner to deal with their nuptials, because, as James put it, Lily was overworked as it was; she didn't need an entire wedding on top of all of her usual workload. And he sure as hell wouldn't know what he was doing ordering flowers and stuff like that.  
  
The planner had met with them just that day and given them "some information" that they might like to consider. "Some information", it turned out, consisted of no less than thirty folders of...stuff. Pictures of wedding cakes, maps and brochures for reception halls and "scenic locations", menus, photos of gowns, flowers and...well, they hadn't gotten to the rest of it yet.  
  
"Well, we didn't just talk about stuff for the Order," Sirius admitted. "Eventually, I ran out of questions for that."  
  
"But you got everything?" Lily pressed sternly.  
  
"Everything I could get out of her," Sirius responded obediently. "Anyway, I...would it be weird if......I mean, I don't....." He trailed off.  
  
"You want to ask her out," James said.  
  
"Right. Would that be...."  
  
"Insensitive, unprofessional, and wrong on so many levels it's difficult to even count them all?" Lily suggested.  
  
"Yeah," Sirius replied. "Would it?"  
  
Lily grinned. "Of course it would."  
  
"But can I still ask her?"  
  
"Yeah, could he still ask her?" James echoed curiously.  
  
Lily frowned at him over her reading glasses. "Why, thinking of asking out someone from the workplace?"  
  
"Yeah, Middleton from Financial Services is looking pretty good as of late," James yawned, smiling. Earl Middleton was about seventy-eight, clinging to a few solitary strands of white hair, and steadily losing his hearing.  
  
"Anyway," Sirius said loudly, just as Lily opened her mouth to retaliate.  
  
Lily smiled at him. "I don't know," she said slowly.  
  
"Well, thanks, Lily," Sirius said impatiently. "You know, you should really consider running for Minister; old Fudge could use your help."  
  
"Fudge isn't old," James pointed out.  
  
"Go snog Middleton, Prongs."  
  
"I think," Lily interrupted softly, "that you should wait. I mean, her sister just died, didn't she?"  
  
"Yeah, but...Hestia hated her family. All of them. Said her sister was better off dead."  
  
Lily's face fell, and James immediately said sharply, "He didn't mean it like that, Lily."  
  
Alarmed that he had obviously done something wrong, Sirius asked quickly, "What? What'd I say?"  
  
Lily plastered on a smile. "Nothing," she said, her voice too overtly bright to be believed, "it's nothing, Sirius." She looked down at her folders. "Well," she added, "I think...I think I'll just take these...take these to my room."  
  
She gathered the folders up in her arms and hurriedly exited the room, James watching her progress down the hall.  
  
"What was that all about?" Sirius asked quietly.  
  
James sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Hestia's sister," he said softly.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Lily's sister pretty much shut Lily out of her life when she was twelve."  
  
Sirius paused, thinking he had probably made the connection but wanting to hear more about this. James and Lily rarely discussed her family; at least not when Sirius was around. "Why?"  
  
"Well," James began, loudly and dramatically expelling a breath, "you know her family are Muggles, right? Her parents are all right with her being a witch; they embraced it, actually. But her sister...." James paused, smiled sadly, and continued flatly, "Well, if it tells you anything, Lily still sends her sister a birthday and Christmas card every year. And every year she gets them back. Unopened."  
  
Sirius didn't quite know what to say to that. "What does she do?"  
  
"Locks herself in the bedroom, usually. Cries. See, Lily can't win. On the Muggle side of things, there are people who dislike her just because she's a witch. But on the magic side of things, there are people who dislike her just because she's not enough of a witch for them." James, who had not taken his eyes off of the bedroom door as spoke, turned to his friend now. "I think I should go talk to her," he said softly. "I'll see you later, okay?"  
  
"Okay," Sirius responded. "Does--does Lily think that....that what I said about Hestia's sister...applies to hers? That her sister wouldn't care if she died?"  
  
"That's probably what she thinks," James admitted. "But I've only met the girl once, so I couldn't tell you whether or not it's true."  
  
"Tell her...tell her I'm sorry, okay?"  
  
James smiled. "She won't blame you, Sirius. But I'll tell her."  
  
Sirius nodded, and Disapparated.  
  
James made his way down the hallway and knocked on the bedroom door. "Lily?"  
  
She didn't answer, so he tried the door. It was unlocked.  
  
Lily was sitting crosslegged on the bed, clutching a pillow to her chest and staring blankly at the wall in front of her. Her expression was tight, and she didn't look at him or say anything as he stepped into the room.  
  
"Love," he tried. "It's not your fault."  
  
"Sure it is," she responded quietly. "But..." She trailed off.  
  
"Wanna talk about it?" James asked, knowing her answer.  
  
"No."  
  
He sat next to her on the bed, but didn't try to touch her, knowing she'd just get up and walk away if he did. He was thinking, and so was she.  
  
"Lily, I won't let you invite her to the wedding."  
  
She looked away from the wall now, turning her eyes to him, surprised. "What?"  
  
"I won't...I won't let you invite her. I won't let her ruin your wedding day."  
  
Lily laughed humorlessly. "Jimmy, you are such a drama queen."  
  
"I'm not being dramatic, Lily. Really."  
  
"Even if I did invite her," Lily said, turning her attention back to the wall, "she wouldn't come."  
  
"But still."  
  
Lily smiled a little, and that was progress, James decided. "Even so," she said, "we won't start guest lists 'till March, at the latest. I've got time to decide whether or not I want to invite her."  
  
Her emphasis on the word "I", however subtle it might've been, clearly showed him that the matter was closed.  
  
For now, anyway.  
  
**** 


	5. Arrows

Tripping Down the Aisle  
  
Chapter Five: Arrows  
  
*****  
  
Sunday, 9 October Six months, fifteen days  
  
James Potter did not consider himself a jealous person.  
  
Really. He could handle people looking at Lily on the street (until, you know, their eyes dropped down to her arse, as they invariably did, at which time he usually started hexing people). If Sirius got a better broom than James currently owned, he congratulated his friend on his spectacular acquisition (so long as it wasn't a much better broom....he was wont to buy a new one anyway, just in case). He was happy for people who knew more about his Quidditch team, the Appleby Arrows, than he did (but he always checked--double checked--their answers to his trivia questions against The Arrows Handbook. He wouldn't want them to be misinformed, after all).  
  
But he drew the line--absolutely drew the line-- at Gideon Prewett mooning after his girlfriend.  
  
It wasn't that he thought that Lily would go after Pretty-Boy Prewett if-- when, he should say--he were to come on to her. It was the mere principle of the thing. You just don't go after someone else's girlfriend. Especially if she's wearing a ring. An engagement ring, of course. Not just any ring; that would be stupid. Well, you still shouldn't go after someone else's girlfriend, regardless of what jewelry she's wearing, because she's, well, someone else's girlfriend.  
  
James tuned back into Dumbledore in time to hear him say, "...of course, if we were to go that route, my dear Minerva, you must understand that it would have severe repercussions," and then tuned him out again, as Gideon Prewett had his hand on Lily's shoulder.  
  
What was his hand doing on Lily's shoulder?  
  
Gideon Prewett's pale, freckly hand had no business on Lily's shoulder. Gideon Prewett's hand should never be in a ten mile radius of Lily's shoulder, as a general rule. Scratch that, no part of Gideon Prewett should be in a ten mile radius of any part of Lily ever.  
  
James narrowed his eyes at Prewett as Lily turned quizzically to him.  
  
"There was a fly on your shoulder," Prewett explained in a whisper, smiling apologetically and placing his hand back on his lap.  
  
"Oh," Lily whispered back, returning his smile. "Thanks." And she turned her attention back to Dumbledore.  
  
James really did not see the point of having assigned seats at these meetings. But Dumbledore had, indeed, assigned them, so as not to have any "distractions" for his Order members. As such, he had placed Lily across from James and four seats over. How was he supposed to monitor Pretty-Boy's behavior if James was all the way over here and Prewett was all the way over there?  
  
Dumbledore would understand, surely, the necessity of a seat change. It was definite that he would move Prewett. The idea of moving him somewhere like Iceland had it's merits.  
  
"Hey."  
  
James jumped, not expecting the sound of Sirius's voice in his ear.  
  
Sirius raised his eyebrows, an amused smile spreading over his face. "Expecting an assassination attempt?"  
  
"What?" James asked. "No. No--I was....thinking."  
  
"Huh," Sirius said, taking the empty seat next to his best friend. James wondered briefly where Caradoc Dearborn had gone, as he was the one who usually occupied that seat. And he was about 95% sure he had been there five seconds ago. "So...wanna go out for drinks or...something?"  
  
'Or something' in Sirius's language usually meant, "Wanna go get so drunk we can't even remember our own names, but we can remember to tell every single girl that walks by what color underwear we think she's wearing?"  
  
"Okay," James replied. "Just...let me go tell Lily."  
  
For he had just spotted her leaning up against the doorframe, holding one of the wedding folders and chatting with Pretty-Boy again. He sighed. The things he did for her...buying her new lingerie every anniversary...attempting to brush his hair when they went to visit her parents...and now to add to the list: protecting her from would-be homewreckers. Really, if you thought about it, he was almost a martyr.  
  
"So," James said, putting his arm around Lily's shoulders in a would-be casual way once he reached them, "what are we talking about?"  
  
"Oh, Gideon was just telling me about the Quidditch game he's going to in a few months," Lily responded brightly. "The Arrows are playing the Wasps. I was just about to tell Gideon how much you love the Arrows, James," she added. "He's got the posters up all over the bedroom. Personally, it creeps me out; I always think they're watching me while I sleep..."  
  
James could just imagine Gideon telling Lily that, if she ran away with him, he'd never hang a Quidditch poster up in his room ever again.  
  
Gideon smiled warmly at James, clearly missing the murderous glint in his eyes. "Ah, a fellow Arrows fan!" he said delightedly. "How long have you been a supporter?"  
  
"Since I was five," James replied, feigning boredom and disinterest.  
  
Gideon's smile did not waver. "Ever seen an Arrows-Wasps game?"  
  
"No," James said flatly. He wasn't lying; he and Sirius had been trying to get tickets to one of those games yearly since the age of eleven, but still had not managed it. It was really one of James's lifelong ambitions, seeing an Arrows-Wasps game.  
  
"Yes, the tickets are rather hard to get, aren't they?" Gideon said conversationally. "My brother works in the Department of Magical Games and Sports and I was on a waiting list for a month and half." His smile widened. "Fabian's a Wasps fan, I'm afraid."  
  
"How unfortunate," James responded, in tones of cool, false sympathy.  
  
Lily shot him a questioningly warning look. James had decided years ago that it was the color of her eyes, the depth of the green, that made her so effective at giving looks that conveyed more than one thing at a time.  
  
Still not dissuaded by James's tone or expression, Gideon continued, "Well, Potter, I have an extra ticket for the match in a few months, if you'd like to go..."  
  
The words echoed in James's head, and he was too surprised to even reply. Was Pretty-Boy one of those horribly annoying people who could not accept the fact that there would inevitably be people who did not like him or was he just impossibly daft?  
  
Lily, catching sight of James's shocked expression, swept in quickly, "Well--well, we'll have to see about that," she said. "See, I--I may have planned a dinner to discuss wedding plans with my family on that night, so I'll have to see if I can cancel that."  
  
Lily, while not quite as good as James at knowing when to lie and when to tell the truth, had a talent for lying that James often lacked: she could think fast, giving you a believable alibi without going on about it too much, as he and Sirius tended to do. Remus was always better at that than they were, and Lily could give him a run for his money.  
  
Gideon grinned. "Ah, well, I certainly wouldn't want a little thing like Quidditch to disrupt a night with the in-laws, eh, Potter?" He winked, then looked towards his brother, who was waving him over. "Well, I'd better go, it's getting late, and Fabian's an impatient little thing. I'll see you later, Lily. Potter." He nodded to both of them in turn, and then walked off.  
  
As soon as Gideon had left, Lily rounded on James, eyebrows raised. "What was that about?"  
  
"I don't know," James said, sighing. "I mean, I didn't ask Prewett to give me a ticket, I--"  
  
"Jimmy, that's not what I'm talking about, and you know it. Why are you being so horrible to him?"  
  
James feigned shock. "Lily, I am appalled that you think I was being horrible to anyone!"  
  
"No, you're not! What is your problem with Gideon?"  
  
"I don't have a problem with him."  
  
Lily laughed. "Except, you know, that you can't stand him."  
  
James nodded thoughtfully. "That is true."  
  
Lily surveyed him for moment, sighed, and rubbed her temples. "James, you know I love you."  
  
Thinking that Lily was craving a snog as much as he was, James smiled patiently and said, "I love you, too."  
  
Lily allowed a small smile, knowing exactly what he was thinking, as she continued, "But you're being an insufferable prick. Why don't you like Gideon? He's a perfectly nice person, and--"  
  
Sirius came over and tapped James on the shoulder. "So, are we going?"  
  
Lily stopped talking. "Where are you going?" she asked, applying a forcedly polite tone to her voice.  
  
"Drinks," James grunted in reply.  
  
Lily raised her eyebrows, but, much to his surprise, did not tell him he couldn't go, saying instead, "When will you be home? Actually, to rephrase, will you be home?"  
  
"What are you implying?"  
  
"That you can't manage to get home on your own, Prongs," Sirius helped.  
  
"You're no better, Sirius," Lily told him.  
  
James put his hand over his heart. "I am shocked," he said. "I am a very good drunk Apparater."  
  
"A drunk Apparater is a bad Apparater," Sirius chirped cheekily.  
  
"James, do you remember the time that you Apparated right on top of the Great Wall?" Lily added.  
  
He grinned. "No, but from what you've told me, it was pretty funny."  
  
Lily fought off a smile. "Try to be home soon," she said. "And don't drink too much, because I still want to talk to you about--" She cut herself off, noting Sirius's attention to her words. "I still want to talk to you," she substituted.  
  
James made a face. "I look forward to it, truly."  
  
She allowed herself to smile. "Now go," she said, "before I decide to have it out with you right here."  
  
James smirked. "Lily, you can have it out with me anytime, anywhere."  
  
"Go!"  
  
***  
  
"He's always hanging all over her," James lamented to Sirius over his firewhiskey. "'Lily, you look simply stunning in that blouse', 'Lily, your skin is radiant; do you moisturize?', 'Lily, I'd absolutely love it if you'd let me take naked pictures of you'." James sucked in a breath sourly and downed the last of his drink.  
  
"Hmm," Sirius said thoughtfully, chewing a stirring stick. "Now, by naked pictures, d'you mean pictures of Lily naked or him taking the pictures naked?"  
  
"Probably a sick combination of both," James responded disgustedly. He balanced his shotglass on its side and spun it like a top. When it tipped over, he did it again. And again.  
  
Watching the shotglass and still chewing on the stirring stick, Sirius asked, "So...are you going to talk to her about it? Or are we just going to off him and be done with it?"  
  
"Dunno," James replied, concentrating on his glass. "Offing him does sound rather appealing, but..."  
  
"But?"  
  
"But Lily might frown upon that. And I like Lily happy much more than I like Lily sleeping in a different room."  
  
Sirius nodded solemnly and absently switched his stirring stick for a toothpick. "Because, you know, if you do kill him, she might do something bad to get you back."  
  
"Such as....?"  
  
"Such as disembowling you."  
  
"Nah, she's more creative than that."  
  
Sirius made a noise of agreement and thought for a moment. "She might now show up for the wedding. Just leave you standing at the altar...alone. She'd probably pop over to wherever it is you're going for your honeymoon. Without you. With me, maybe."  
  
"You'd run away with my girlfriend?"  
  
"Well, Prongs, I'm not going to turn down any girl who says they want to go to Aruba with me. Especially if she's as hot as Lily. Especially if I don't have to pay anything."  
  
James sulked. "You know, Padfoot, this is why there are so many divorces nowadays. Because of people like you. And Prewett."  
  
Sirius sighed, but he was smiling. "Cheers to that."  
  
***  
  
When James got home a little more than an hour later, Lily was sitting in the living room, wearing her pajamas (actually, she was wearing his pajamas- -but then, Lily hadn't worn her own clothes to bed for two and a half years), eating a sandwich, and reading the Evening Prophet. She folded up the paper without even looking up at him when he Apparated right in front of her.  
  
"How drunk are you?" she asked, setting the neatly folded paper on the floor by the sofa.  
  
"Not very," he responded, sitting next to her.  
  
"Hmm. When's my birthday?"  
  
"June seventh."  
  
Lily smiled, telling him that this was, indeed, the correct answer. "Okay, when's your birthday?"  
  
"January twenty-first."  
  
She pulled on a lock of his hair. "Welcome home, love. Did you eat anything?"  
  
"No." He took the half-eaten sandwich from her and polished it off in three bites. "Yes."  
  
"You are very lucky I was done with that," Lily told him, the smile still playing at her mouth.  
  
She was making him a little nervous. Wasn't she angry at him for disliking her future lover? Why was she being so...cheerful?  
  
They sat in silence for a few minutes, James fidgeting uncomfortably, Lily smiling serenely, as if she knew something he didn't.  
  
Finally, James squeezed his eyes shut and braced himself. "I can't stand Prewett because he's a womanizing git."  
  
Since he had his eyes closed, James could not immediately tell Lily's reaction, as she did not say anything for several seconds. And when she did speak, all she said was, "What?"  
  
He ventured a peek at her. Her face was slack, her mouth slightly open, eyes surprised. "A--a womanizing git," James repeated.  
  
"You've got to explain this to me," Lily said flatly, "because, obviously, your definition of 'womanizing git' and mine are worlds away from each other."  
  
"Lily, he is madly in love with you," James proclaimed.  
  
She actually began to laugh. "He is not madly in love with me, James."  
  
"Well, maybe not 'madly'," he admitted. "But I can see it going there."  
  
"Gideon does not think of me that way at all," Lily corrected. "He's just a friend."  
  
"He wants to be more than friends with you, Lily."  
  
She crossed her arms over her chest and eyed him warily. "And let's say he did," she said coolly, and James detected a sinking feeling in his stomach as he sensed a lecture and/or guilt trip coming on. "Let's say Gideon did tell me he loved me, did try to kiss me, did start touching me....do you honestly think that I would accept those advances? Or do you think I'm tart enough to go cavorting around with some man I just met?"  
  
"What, you don't believe you met him in a past life or something?" James muttered to himself, running a hand through his hair.  
  
"Jimmy," Lily said, and her tone, while still warning, was softer.  
  
"Well, Lil, it's--it's not that I don't trust you," James said slowly, trying to process exactly what he was feeling and thinking in a way that wouldn't get him banished to Sirius's. "'Cause I do. I trust you...well, I trust you...a lot. But...okay, let's say...let's say I got a secretary, okay?"  
  
"What do you need a secretary for when you've got a Quick Quotes Quill and Sirius?"  
  
"I'm getting to that. Let's say I get a secretary. Now, this secretary is blonde, she's leggy, she's got a great figure--"  
  
"She's Sirius's new girlfriend?"  
  
"Is this what I'm like when you're trying to tell me something?" James wondered aloud.  
  
Lily actually cracked a smile. "Exactly."  
  
"Oh. I'm really annoying, aren't I?"  
  
"You are obnoxious to a fault, yes."  
  
"Hm. That's interesting. Anyway, let's say that you come to my office one day, and this secretary is telling me how gorgeous I am, how the clothes I'm wearing accentuate my eyes, how she can see my chiseled abs through those clothes, how ridiculously hilarious I am--"  
  
"Oh, so you've told her this story, too, then?"  
  
"Shove off. You're the one who says grey makes my eyes look pretty. How would you feel? If that happened, if she could not keep her hands off me. Would you not want to start a really hot catfight that my whole office could watch?"  
  
Lily threw a pillow at him, but seemed to be mulling over what he had said- -minus the obnoxious commentary, of course. James noted this and immediately jumped to his feet, hand dramatically over his heart.  
  
"Is Lily Evans, my perfect girlfriend and future perfect wife admitting that I'm right?"  
  
"I never said that," Lily corrected quickly. "I never said anything. And how can you be right when you didn't even make a point? And if you ever call me your perfect wife again, I'll kick you."  
  
"You need there to be a clear point, then?" James asked innocently, his tone giving way to his best mischievous smile.  
  
Lily eyed him warily, right eyebrow raised. "As long as I don't have to throw you out of the house for it. It's rather cold tonight; I don't fancy having to sleep by myself."  
  
"Oh, you know you love me," he declared, rejoining her on the sofa.  
  
"Not by choice," she replied, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "But we've had that conversation seven thousand times over the past three years; I'm getting a little tired of discussing with you what exactly made me decide to fall for you. Anyway, you said you had a point?"  
  
"Oh, that," James said, remembering it. He never got tired of that conversation, but this 'point' was better even than that.  
  
For the point involved snogging.  
  
He leaned forward and kissed her, placing one hand on her side, the other in her hair, twirling the strands around his fingers. She kissed back for a while, playing with the little baby hairs the nape of his neck before pulling away and asking, "Wait, what does this have to do with...with the point?"  
  
"The point is, I never want anyone doing that to you but me. And vice versa."  
  
Lily smiled a little. "Hmm, I see your point."  
  
"It's a good point, isn't it?"  
  
***  
  
A little less than three hours later, James and Lily were still on the sofa. Still snogging.  
  
As he took a break to clean off his glasses and she to get a glass of water, Lily asked him, "So, are you going to the Quidditch game with Gideon?"  
  
James paused. "Lily, I know I'm a good snogger and everything, but surely I didn't kill off that many brain cells."  
  
Lily rolled her eyes as she downed the last of her water. "Gideon's a great person, you have a lot in common, and I'm sure you'd like him if you just got to know him..."  
  
"No, no I wouldn't," James told her flatly, putting his glasses back on and surveying her. "He's a prick. And I don't like him."  
  
She hesitated, looking at him in a very strange way. A smile was playing at the corner of her lips, and she appeared to be concentrating on something.  
  
"What?" James asked, alarmed. "What, did I miss a spot?" He took off the glasses again and held them up to the light.  
  
"How could I tell if you missed a spot?" Lily said, her smile wider. "No, it's just...you remind me of me."  
  
"Huh?" he said brilliantly.  
  
"Do you remember," she said, in the very patronizing manner of trying to explain something very simple to someone equally so, "three years ago, when you were trying to get me to go out with you?"  
  
"Why, no," James responded dryly. "I only still have nightmares about it, but, you know, the details are fuzzy."  
  
"I was being as stubborn as you are now. I didn't want to admit that I could be wrong, that we actually could be good together. And just think about what would've happened if I hadn't said yes to you."  
  
James scoffed. "If we hadn't snogged in the History of Magic classroom, more like."  
  
Lily tilted her head and smiled. "Sentimentalism just never dies, does it?"  
  
"Ditto for sarcasm, love."  
  
"Mm, touche."  
  
Lily paused a moment. "Just out of curiosity...where do you think we'd be if we weren't together?"  
  
"Oh, well, you'd be disgustingly successful, of course. Sixteen houses all over the world, expensive clothes to match every shade of eyeshadow you own, your own martini bar...but you'd be sad and empty inside without me. Alcoholic, probably."  
  
"Alcoholic, huh?" Lily asked, amused.  
  
"Oh, yeah. Martini bar did you in," replied confidently.  
  
"Okay," Lily said, smiling. "Okay, so I'm a rich, bitter alcoholic. What about you, then?"  
  
James paused, considering this. "Oh, I'd be ridiculously successful, as well. Playing for the Arrows, I'd wager. My face on Witch Weekly every week, my own broom, different girl every night, what say you?"  
  
Lily smirked. "I say you're touched in the head." She crossed the room to sit next to him on the sofa again and rested her head on his shoulder. "But, really," she said softly. "I really want you and Gideon to get along..."  
  
James groaned. "Why?"  
  
"Because, James," Lily responded, a steely note in her voice, "he is one of my very good friends, and you're going to be my husband, and...." She trailed off. "It would just make things...much, much easier." She pulled her head off of his shoulder and made eye contact. "Please?"  
  
James grunted, still not relenting.  
  
Lily sighed, then appeared to reach an epiphany. "Okay," she said brightly, "okay, I'll make you a deal."  
  
"Does this deal involve you clothed entirely in chocolate?"  
  
She wrinkled her nose. "No."  
  
"Then I'm really not interested."  
  
"No, just listen! Okay...go to the Quidditch game with Gideon. Get to know him a little...and, if you still don't like him after the game--honestly-- then I won't pressure you anymore. I will accept that you two just don't get along and make allowances."  
  
James paused, considering this.  
  
"Please?" Lily wheedled. "For me? If nothing else, do it for me."  
  
Well, she had just backed him into a corner. If he said 'no', she would want to know why 'for her' wasn't a good enough incentive for him to endure such torture. But if he said 'yes', he'd actually have to go through the torture.  
  
James sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Just...don't expect him to stand up with me at the wedding, okay?"  
  
***  
  
A/N: Well, this wasn't too long of a wait, now, was it? Amazing what you can do when you actually have a computer.  
  
Thanks are in order to the people who reviewed the last chapter, and any chapter of anything I've ever written. You keep this story alive! (Cheesy line number 872 has just been crossed off the list...) I hope you like this chapter as much as you liked the last one, as it's one of my favorites.  
  
Here's hoping that the next chapter won't take very long! 


	6. The Wedding Planner

Tripping Down the Aisle  
  
Chapter Six: The Wedding Planner  
  
***  
  
Saturday, 22 October Six months, two days  
  
James did not see the point of his attendance at the meetings with the wedding planner. As he told Lily several times, he could not care less about the flowers or the food or the band or...well, whatever else was involved in planning a wedding. All he cared about was Lily's attendance. That was it.  
  
But every time he brought this up, Lily said that he would regret it for the rest of his life if he didn't involve himself with his own wedding. James responded by saying that, if he ever did regret that, he would content himself with memories of the wedding night.  
  
Whenever he pointed that out, he ended up sleeping on the sofa. Or, if the argument escalated to a high enough level, at Sirius's.  
  
So here James sat, next to Lily, slumped over in his seat simply because he knew it annoyed her, and also because he was too bored to worry about correct posture. Not that he ever really bothered with posture.  
  
The wedding planner was a middle-aged woman (although she still insisted that she was twenty-seven) by the name of Adeline Corrington, or "Addy", as she practically begged them to call her. She had short, bottle-blonde hair, tiny gray eyes, and eyebrows that she routinely shaved off and drew back on with black eyebrow pencil. As of late, she had started drawing them rather unevenly, so that the right one was a little bit longer than the left, and the left was arched more than the right.  
  
These eyebrows were a major distraction to James, who had little to no interest in today's topic (whether or not to have attendants) as it was. He kept trying to tune into the conversation between Adeline and Lily, but would start unconcsciously concentrating on Adeline's circus-freak eyebrows. He kept wondering if she would notice if he brought out his wand and Transfigured them into caterpillars....  
  
"James," Lily's sharp voice said, interrupting his fantasy. "James, are you listening to me?"  
  
"Sure," he responded, blinking. "And, love, I agree one-hundred percent."  
  
Lily raised an eyebrow. Her eyebrows, luckily, were normal. He was afraid that he might have to step in if she started shaving them. "That's great, Jimmy, but Adeline--"  
  
"Oh, please, call me Addy!" the wedding planner interrupted, flashing a false smile.  
  
"Addy," Lily amended, pronouncing the word with great distaste that the other woman failed to notice, "just asked you whether or not you wanted attendants."  
  
James stared curiously at his girlfriend. "Well, of course I want people to come, Lily."  
  
In spite of herself, Lily smiled. "Different kind of attendants, James. A best man. Groomsmen."  
  
This he could be interested in. James straightened in his seat. "Well, I told Sirius he was going to be my best man when we were thirteen, so..."  
  
"That's what I thought," Lily said authoritively, leaning back in her chair. "So, yes, attendants for James."  
  
Adeline made a note in her folder and turned the page. "Oh," she said, laughing a little in surprise as she read something. "Oh, this can't be right....you're...twenty?"  
  
Oh, there it was again. She asked this every single time they came in. James could not wait for January, when his birthday came and he could tell her that he was twenty-one. Of course, that would be a small victory, but it would be a victory all the same.  
  
Lily blinked once before replying, "Yes. Neither of us has had our birthday in the past three weeks, Ms. Corrington."  
  
Adeline smiled in sickeningly false manner. "Of course. And you are....living together?" She blinked up at them innocently.  
  
Lily didn't even bother to reply. She merely sighed, her eyes flashing.  
  
Adeline dropped the subject and quickly turned a page in the folder. "Hmm," she muttered to herself as she perused the page carefully through her horn-rimmed spectacles, "Ms. Evans, have you started looking for your wedding dress yet?"  
  
Lily looked up from her lap. "What?" she blurted in surprise.  
  
Adeline smiled up at Lily with false patience. "Well, you are planning on wearing a wedding dress, correct?"  
  
Lily gritted her teeth. "That depends," she said. "I could wear a tea towel, if you prefer."  
  
Putting aside the fact that he would not mind in the slightest if Lily wore a tea towel anywhere, James tried, "What--what Lily means is," he said tentatively, realizing that if this continued for much longer Lily would bring out her wand and possibly curse off the stubble that was Adeline's eyebrows, and that might be too much for James to take, "it's October. Isn't that a little...early...to be looking for a dress? With the--with the wedding in June...and all?"  
  
Adeline looked shocked that he even suggested such a thing. "Mr. Potter," she said, her voice breathily patronizing, "a wedding dress is the greatest thing a woman will ever wear. It has to be perfect, and that often takes months for the bride to find one to her liking....and," she deliberately turned her tiny eyes to Lily, "it takes some women more time than others."  
  
Lily set her jaw.  
  
James was still stuck on the part of Adeline's speech where she said that a wedding dress is the greatest thing a woman will ever wear, or he would've been indignant on his girlfriend's behalf. Obviously, Adeline had never seen Lily in last anniversary's white lace confection. Oy.  
  
"James," Lily said tightly, "are you ready to go?"  
  
"Yes," he said quickly. He thought that the white lace corset...thing...was still in Lily's dresser. If they escaped fast enough, he might be able to convince her to wear it for him. "Yes, I'm ready."  
  
"Take me home," she instructed, narrowing her eyes dangerously in Adeline's direction, "before I sink to her level."  
  
She didn't have to repeat it.  
  
***  
  
Sirius drummed his fingers on the booth table in the Three Broomsticks, where he was waiting for Hestia to arrive. He had already gone through four martinis when Madame Rosmerta had kindly cut him off, asking him whether or not he really wanted to be drunk when Hestia did show up. He was now nursing a glass of water.  
  
He hadn't exactly lured her here under false pretenses, he told himself. So he didn't specifically want to talk about the Order, which is what he had told her he wanted to talk about in the owl. They could talk about that, though. Use it as an introduction to the asking out.  
  
Sirius had never really been nervous about asking a girl out before. James said that it was probably because, with the other girls, he always knew what the answer would be before he asked. And he was right.  
  
It wasn't that Sirius was arrogant. He was, in a sense, but he had certainly become less so as the years passed. He suspected that that was Lily's fault. But he had never cared about being arrogant before, he wasn't about to start.  
  
Probably.  
  
But right now he was...really, really nervous. His palms were sweating, he kept messing with his hair (James was really starting to wear off on him), and there was a very cold feeling in the pit of his stomach. Sirius half wanted Hestia to walk in the door, and half wished she'd stay away.  
  
Too late for that. She entered the room, wearing a plum-colored cloak and long, dangly silver earrings that stood out against her dark hair. Sirius saw her before she saw him, which was lucky, as the sight of her caused him to choke on his water. He regained himself and waved her over, hoping she couldn't see the droplets of water too much against his green sweater.  
  
Hestia smiled as she slid into the booth, facing him. After Madame Rosmerta brought her a Butterbeer, giving Sirius an encouraging wink before she left, Hestia asked, "So...what exactly did you need to talk about? Does," she lowered her voice, "does Dumbledore have...leads? About...about my sister?"  
  
Her dark eyes were shining hopefully, and she bit her lip, clutching the tankard tightly.  
  
Sirius paused, wondering if he maybe should've been up-front with her. "Hestia, I....no, there--there aren't any leads."  
  
She dropped her eyes, took a long, jerky sip of her drink and muttered, "Yeah, I...I just....don't want there to be...be any Death Eaters. It's not my sister. I just wouldn't....wouldn't want someone to get away with that. Killing someone. It's...no one should get away with that." She didn't appear to be talking to him, merely thinking out loud.  
  
Sirius was quiet as she drank. This was a bad idea, it really was. But Sirius was stubborn, always had been, and so he found himself saying, "Hestia, can I ask you something? You know, other than 'can I ask you something'?"  
  
She smiled faintly at him as she reached for a napkin. "Sure."  
  
Sirius nodded and ran a hand through his hair. "Okay. So, listen." He faltered, and found he couldn't say anything after that.  
  
Hestia blinked at him, reaching up to tap her left earring, making it swing back and forth. "I'm listening," she told him.  
  
He laughed nervously. "Yeah, I know. Um...I know you're not...you're not seeing...seeing anyone, and I....I'm single, and you're pretty and I'm...well, I'm pretty, too, and...well...I was just wondering..."  
  
Hestia covered her mouth with her hand. "Oh, no," she said softly, her voice muffled slightly by her hand.  
  
No, no, not 'oh, no', nothing good ever comes from 'oh, no'. Sirius felt hot and stupid and quite possibly the most embarrassed he had ever felt in his life, and that included the time Moony had walked in on him...well, never mind about that; living it once had been bad enough. "But wondering is stupid, no one should ever wonder anything ever," he muttered, running a hand through his hair again.  
  
Hestia lowered her hand, a smile playing at her lips. "Sirius," she said.  
  
"Yeah!" Sirius replied, forcing a grin, his voice too bright to be believable.  
  
"Sirius, any girl would be lucky to have you."  
  
"Hmm, so did you write the book on how to turn guys down or are you just reciting this verbatim?" Sirius snapped, his temper getting the best of him.  
  
Hestia didn't lash out at him as she could've--should've, probably. "I know you're upset with me," she told him, and her voice was comforting, soft, almost motherly. He hated her. A little bit. "But just hear me out."  
  
He didn't say anything, but looked down into his almost-empty water glass.  
  
Hestia pulled on the end of her earring. "Sirius, any other time, I would love to go out with you. I really would. We have a lot in common, you're good looking, and you're younger than me, which would give me a lot of bragging rights." She smiled a little. "But the timing is....well, to put it bluntly, the timing is bloody horrible. Sirius, whenever I'd see you, I'd see my sister's face. You, unfortunately, are going to be one of the things I think of when I think of this time in my life...and that's not your fault. But it is something I have to deal with." She cocked her head a little. "If the circumstances were different," she said, lowering her voice, "if it were you who met me like this...you'd see your brother, wouldn't you?"  
  
Sirius glanced up at her, meeting her eyes, trying to imagine her as Regulus, trying to imagine Regulus as her....  
  
And maybe it was just the martinis, but for a moment, he could.  
  
But it wasn't eighteen-year-old Regulus; he didn't look like he had the last time Sirius had seen him...  
  
Regulus was eight and Sirius was eleven, it was September first, and Sirius was leaving. His trunk was packed, his first owl, Lovey (he had let Regulus name her), was perched upon the trolley, and he was going! He was actually going, had the train ticket in his pocket and everything.  
  
Regulus wanted to go, too.  
  
"Aw, don't cry," Sirius said to his brother, crouching down to reach his level. "I'll be back. Holidays and stuff."  
  
Regulus sniffed, his blue eyes filling with tears. "But...but you won't be here for my birthday."  
  
Regulus's birthday was in two weeks, and, indeed, Sirius would not be there to jump on his brother's bed with whistles and noisemakers, singing 'Happy Birthday' and swinging him around the bedroom quickly before their mother woke up.  
  
Sirius bit his lip. "I'll send you a present," he declared. "A really good one...something great. It'll be better than me being there."  
  
Regulus studied his brother, eyes still brimming with shining tears. "Could...could you get me...candy?"  
  
"More than you can eat!" Sirius said, switching his weight to his right foot. Crouching like this got tiring after a few minutes.  
  
"Promise?" Regulus asked warily.  
  
"Promise."  
  
"Cross your heart and hope to die?" Regulus pressed.  
  
Solemnly, Sirius crossed his heart. "Consider it crossed."  
  
Regulus sniffed again. "Okay," he said.  
  
Sirius beckoned his brother closer. "And just you wait," he whispered. "In two more years, you'll be coming with me."  
  
Regulus nodded seriously. "Two years is a long time."  
  
"Not that long," Sirius promised.  
  
"Okay," Regulus said again. "Okay."  
  
Sirius looked up at Hestia, who was smiling sadly. And while he did not accept the reason...he understood.  
  
**** 


	7. The Quidditch Match

Tripping Down the Aisle  
  
Chapter Seven: The Quidditch Match  
  
----  
  
Saturday, 22 November  
  
Five months, five days  
  
It wasn't Lily's fault, James decided as he pulled on a sweater, that she was so naive where Pretty-Boy Prewett was concerned. She was just one of those people who insisted on seeing the best in people...even girlfriend- stealing tossers.  
  
Lily herself entered the room now, toting a Honeydukes bag, which she set down next to the bed before dropping onto it next to him. "I'm so glad you're going to go through with this," she said for possibly the millionth time since he'd woken up this morning.  
  
James grunted in reply, ruffling his hair in the back.  
  
Lily looked down at her hands, then back up at him and tried again. "Gideon says he's looking forward to it."  
  
Gideon also says he wants you in a red teddy serving him strawberries. "Uh- huh."  
  
Lily bit her lip, then smiled; a very broad, mischievous smile that could have any number of different results. "Love," she began.  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Why are you doing this?"  
  
James looked down at his shoes and recited, "Because I love you."  
  
This seemed to be the answer that Lily was anticipating (as it always was-- whenever she asked a question, it was usually a safe bet to just say, "Because I love you" in reply...though that sometimes backfired), because she reached for the Honeydukes bag and pulled it into her lap. "You know, I was thinking," she said slyly, sticking her hand in the bag and feeling around for something. "You do an awful lot of things for me just because you love me."  
  
"I know," James grumbled.  
  
Lily ignored the resentful tone. "And so, I thought I'd...repay you for all those little favors."  
  
His head snapped up, cheeks flaming as she withdrew from the bag a very large jar of Honeyduke's mint chocolate sauce--his favorite kind. "When you asked if I was going to be clothed entirely in chocolate, it got me...thinking. Since I never let you...do...stuff like this, I thought I'd indulge you." She smirked. "I rather thought you could find a thing or two to do with this."  
  
It was a little warm in the room all of a sudden. "I...I can think of several," James agreed, pulling on the neck of his sweater.  
  
"Mm, I'm glad," Lily replied, leaning in to kiss him. He pulled the chocolate to him with one hand, and with the other, started to lift up her shirt.  
  
He was quite disappointed when she pushed his hand away and broke off the kiss, rather abruptly. Ignoring his splutters of indignance, Lily took the chocolate back from him and dropped it back into it's bag.  
  
"Think about those things when you're at the match," she said, her breathy, Seductress!Lily tone of voice suddenly replaced by a very coyly matter-of-fact one. James was deeply saddened. He liked Seductress!Lily.  
  
"B--but--but," he sputtered aas Lily stood up and exited the room, playfully swinging the Honeyduke's bag back and forth as she walked. He jumped up from the bed to follow her down the hall. "How...what...why...?"  
  
Lily actually laughed, which James did not find very nice. He was suffering, and she was laughing? She stopped walking and abruptly dropped the bag, putting her arms around his neck and kissing him again, a much longer, less hesitant kiss than the one before. James liked snogging Lily very much, but knowing that he could be snogging her whilst pouring chocolate over her sort of lessened his enthusiasm for the activity at hand. When she broke away, she sort of sighed and started to play with his hair. "You always need motivation to do anything, Jimmy," she said softly, "and I am merely giving it to you."  
  
"No, you're not giving it to me, that's the problem," James grumbled.  
  
Lily giggled. "You'll get it," she promised. "If you can get through this afternoon without killing Gideon."  
  
"Lily, it might not be an afternoon! I forget how little you know about Quidditch!"  
  
She shook her head. "Don't try to play that card."  
  
"I--I am playing it. It is face up on the table. Read it and weep."  
  
Lily smirked. "All right, just because I don't yell out plays in my sleep-- "  
  
You would think, James thought wryly, that after a year and a half, she'd let that one go. "It was a phase," he said graciously. "Anyway, the point is that this game could last days! Weeks! Months!"  
  
She bit her lip to keep from laughing. "You are such a drama queen," she said affectionately.  
  
"I am not!" James protested. "I'm being realistic! Did you know, Lily, that the longest Quidditch match ever was five and a half months? And you know my desire to be a part of history. This might be my shot. It just might come at a price."  
  
"A price," Lily repeated dully.  
  
"That's right."  
  
"And what price is that?"  
  
"Gideon Prewett's head on a stick."  
  
Lily sighed and rested her forehead against his chin, his cue to put his arms around her. "James, we've been through this," she said. "I love you, okay? There is no twisted, secret love affair going on between me and Gideon. Promise."  
  
He grunted.  
  
She lifted her head and smiled. "Is your masculinity secure now? Can you go?"  
  
James gave a very over-dramatized sigh. "Yes, I suppose so."  
  
***  
  
They were a little under an hour early for the match. Prewett insisted that this was purely an accident, that he had merely read the time on the tickets incorrectly. James thought that Pretty-Boy rather enjoyed seeing him uncomfortable, and that they were here simply for his own sick entertainment.  
  
In his lap, James balanced his Arrows pennant, his six bottles of Butterbeer (for the entire game, of course--unless Prewett really started to annoy him, in which case he'd just have to use them to knock him out cold), and his program. James made quite a meal of adjusting them before Gideon cleared his throught and said, "So...Lily's told me, but I always forget...how long have you been together?"  
  
He was not talking about Lily now. James's grip tightened on his pennant. "It'll be four years in February," he responded tightly.  
  
Prewett smiled toothily. "She never tells the story of how you got together, though," he said.  
  
That wasn't entirely true, James thought. When she got drunk, Lily often launched into a very generous, detailed retelling of the story. Of course, he wasn't going to tell Prewett that, though. Ruffling his hair, he said, "It's really a boring story, actually. Overrated." He flashed his best false smile. "Sorry." In truth, Lily didn't much like him telling the story himself, as she seemed to be under the impression that he embellished when he told it--funny, Lily always commented wryly, how there was always a lot more sex and a lot less yelling in his version.  
  
Prewett nodded, looking down at his hands. "That's not what I heard from her," he said lightly, putting his thumbnail in his mouth and chewing on it thoughtfully.  
  
"If she likes the story so much, then why doesn't she tell it?"  
  
"If I remember correctly, she said that she didn't want to crack your icy exterior and reveal the marshmallow on the inside," Prewett deadpanned.  
  
I am not a marshmallow, James thought indignantly. "She said that, huh?" he asked tersely.  
  
Prewett grinned around his fingernails. "No," he replied. "I made that up."  
  
James closed his eyes. Why am I here? "Ha," he said dully, not even making an effort to smile.  
  
"Actually," Prewett went on, noting James's less-than-enthusiastic reaction to his joke and frowning a little, "I heard the story from Remus Lupin, but, y'know, it's always more interesting to hear it from someone directly involved."  
  
"Remus was directly involved," James informed him coolly. "He's one of my best friends. He was there. His account of what happened is just as good as mine."  
  
Prewett paused for a moment, holding James's determined glare. Finally, he removed his hand from his mouth, and wiping it on the legs of his slacks, sighed, "Look, Potter, I know you don't like me."  
  
"You're not at the top of my Christmas list, no," James responded bluntly. He could just see Lily putting the chocolate sauce in a James-proof safe. She could probably sense what he was saying She was probably pouring the sauce down the drain right now...in spite of himself, James sighed wistfully.  
  
"...but I don't really know why," Prewett was saying.  
  
As if James actually going to give him the satisfaction of a reply! "Prewett, are you religious?"  
  
Prewett looked surprised at the question, which, to him, came out of nowhere. "Erm...no...not--not really...no. Why...?"  
  
"I'm not either," James told him. "But, in Lily's room at her parents' house, there's this embroidered...thing...hanging on her wall. It has the Ten Commandments on it. Are you familiar with the Ten Commandments, Prewett?"  
  
"I can't say that I am," Prewett responded dryly, interested to see where this was going.  
  
"Well, one of them is 'Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's wife.'"  
  
Prewett stared. "How--how is that relevant?" he finally managed to ask.  
  
James almost sighed in exasperation. Some people were just so thick. "You're in violation of the Commandment, Pretty-Boy," he spat.  
  
"But...Lily's not your wife," Prewett pointed out.  
  
"Not now," James said exasperatedly. "But she will be."  
  
"And you're not my neighbor."  
  
James blinked. "I don't know that. I don't know where you live."  
  
Prewett bit out, "I live in Sussex."  
  
"Oh," James responded. "Well, I could live in Sussex, you don't know."  
  
He smirked. "Unless you and Lily live separately, you don't live anywhere near Sussex."  
  
"Yeah, but I could."  
  
Prewett sighed. "Potter, I don't feel that way about your girlfriend."  
  
"I prefer fiance," James corrected primly.  
  
Prewett raised a blonde eyebrow. "In any case," he said blankly, "I don't feel that way about Lily. At all."  
  
"You wanna hear something funny, Prewett?" James asked, forcing a laugh. "You must be a crap Auror, because you suck at lying."  
  
Prewett narrowed his green eyes. "You really are a stupid, jealous prat," he snapped. "Even if I did feel that way for Lily--which, as I apparently have to reiterate, I don't--I wouldn't act on them, because that's a really low, scummy thing to do. And even if I did try to act on these hypothetical feelings, it would never happen. Lily wouldn't have me." He took a breath. "She's marrying you, Potter."  
  
James paused, considering this. "There were a lot of 'what-ifs' in that speech," he said slowly as he thought.  
  
"So?" Prewett bit out harshly.  
  
"So, that obviously means you've been thinking about it." Prewett was right, of course. Lily was marrying James, and he did like to think that she wouldn't ever go after another guy.  
  
When James tuned back in, Prewett was rambling, "...she's a great girl, Lily; she's pretty, she's smart, she's funny, she's...."  
  
"Prewett, I am this close to deciding not to levitate you six hundred feet above this stadium, do not make me change my mind," James intoned, rubbing his temples.  
  
Prewett glared, but obeyed.  
  
***  
  
Sirius, though he certainly understood Hestia's reasons for turning him down, still could not admit defeat. Because, after all, he still liked her very much--very much indeed-- and Professor McGonagall had alwyas said that he could accomplish anything when he put his 'horribly stubborn' mind to it.  
  
He didn't see how this was much different.  
  
So Sirius did what anyone seeking romantic help should do: he went to see Moony.  
  
***  
  
Moony's place was small; a three-room flat with sad blue-and-white striped paper starting to peel from the walls. His furniture was sparse, but due to his 'restricted income' as he called it, he hadn't been able to afford much of anything. Both Sirius and James had offered him a room, but Moony always insisted that he was 'fine'. He had pride, that was for sure.  
  
"So," Remus said, pouring boiling water into two mismatched teacups at the kitchen stove, "what was so terribly important that you just had to talk to me about?" He put a teabag in either cup and carried them to the ancient, understuffed green sofa, where Sirius was sitting. "Sugar?"  
  
"Rum," Sirius amended, taking a silver flask from his robe pocket.  
  
Moony allowed his mouth to twist into its trademark wry smile as Sirius poured some rum into his cup. "Really, Sirius."  
  
Sirius gulped down a few sips of alcohol-tinged tea, wiped his mouth on his sleeve, and began, "You know the girl from Kent? The one Dumbledore assigned me?"  
  
"Mm-hm," Remus replied around his teacup.  
  
Sirius ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah, well, I need help."  
  
Moony frowned. "Help on what to ask her?"  
  
"No," Sirius responded bluntly. "Help--help like you gave James."  
  
Remus smiled a little and set down his teacup. "Sirius, you're going to have be a tad more specific, because I've helped James with a number of things, like walking home from the pub after he polished off an entire bottle of vodka by himself, or trying to decide whether or not he was a sex addict..."  
  
"Hey, why didn't he come to me with that?" Sirius interrupted. "I am an expert on all things sexual."  
  
"Yes, we know," Remus muttered, pouring himself more tea. "I don't think I slept in that dorm room at all seventh year, between you and James."  
  
Sirius grinned fondly. "Yeah, that was great."  
  
Remus added sugar to his tea and stirred it. "But we're not here to reminisce. What did you want to ask me about?"  
  
Sirius downed his tea. "Erm," he said, "I asked her out."  
  
"Who?"  
  
"Hestia. The girl from Kent?"  
  
Remus raised his eyebrows in surprise. "I didn't know that."  
  
"Yeah, well, I didn't tell you for a reason," Sirius said flatly, bringing out his flask and taking a swig of rum. "Turned me down."  
  
"Oh," Remus said, leaning back on the sofa. "That kind of help."  
  
****  
  
A/N: So, I just thought I'd clear up a couple of things from the last chapter.  
  
A lot of people (well, a few) said that they thought that Sirius hated his brother. He does. But he didn't hate his brother when he was eight, because he didn't know what he would turn out to be. And as for it making him sad, well, wouldn't you be sad if a member of your family went completely wrong? You'd be mad at them, but you'd also feel a loss. Or, at least, I would.  
  
And, yes, the drawn eyebrows were inspired (in part) by Grandmere from The Princess Diaries. But my grandmother, who is, like, eighty, does it too. But I love my grandma. She's not evil. :)  
  
And....::woot!:: I made 300 favorites' listers on Tuesday!!! Squee, squee, squee, a million times squee!! Thank you so, so much to everyone who put me on there, I feel all warm and fluffy inside. ::sobs::  
  
See you in eight...whenever that may be. :)  
  
~Ashley 


	8. The Shock of Reality

Tripping Down the Aisle  
  
Chapter Eight: The Shock of Reality  
  
****  
  
It was hard to say whether the talking or the current uncomfortable silence that James and Gideon Prewett were sharing was more torturous. While the Arrows and the Wasps were certainly providing more than enough entertainment, James usually enjoyed the company of his friends when he watched a Quidditch game. If Sirius were here, he'd be shrieking obscenities at the players and the referees while drinking steadily, which, of course, caused the obscenities to grow louder and more colorful as time went on. Peter would be monitoring the goalposts, muttering instructions to the Keeper and Chasers, and swearing under his breath when they didn't follow his directions. Remus would be studying each player, occasionally murmuring, "Great form...top of his game, he is..." and then suddenly letting out a string of curses that sometimes made even Sirius stop and stare.  
  
Gideon Prewett did none of these things.  
  
He hadn't sworn once.  
  
He was drinking water.  
  
And it wasn't vodka under the clever guise of a water bottle. James had checked.  
  
Prewett was just leaning back in his chair, arms folded over his chest, watching the spectacle go on in front of him as though he saw this everyday and was getting quite bored of it. Every once in a while, he put his fingernails in his mouth, but James thought that that was only because Prewett was one of those people who chewed on absolutely anything that you put in front of them, not because he was particularly excited when Appleby Chaser Corbitt easily intercepted a pass from Wimbourne's star Keeper, Chessly, to their famed Chaser, Aughton, who looked baffled when Corbitt made an easy goal and did a victory lap around the pitch.  
  
Actually, James thought, taking his attention away from Prewett and centering it on the game, Aughton was really.... off today. James had seen quite a few Quidditch games in his lifetime, and he had never seen anyone fly so badly, especially not in a professional game. And Aughton was actually supposed to be a very good player; recruited straight out of Hogwarts at the age of eighteen and had been playing for the Wasps ever since. It was very curious, the way that he kept fumbling with the Quaffle as though he hadn't a clue what to do with it. Every time his teammates would pass him the ball, he would fly aimlessly around the pitch for a while before eventually throwing it back to the teammate who threw it to him, or to a Chaser from the other team.  
  
James glanced at Prewett, who was studying the Wasps' Seeker, a man in his mid-thirties by the name of Chester Kensington. Clearing his throat, James commented, "Aughton's rather off- form today, don't you think?"  
  
"Not as much as Kensington," Prewett responded, which surprised James. He hadn't noticed anything unusual about Kensington at all.  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"He's marking McMasters," Prewett replied shortly, pointing to the Appleby Seeker, Ewen McMasters, who was, indeed, being tailed closely by Kensington.  
  
James shrugged and reached for his Omnioculars, which he had kept in his robe pocket. "Yeah, so? Lots of Seekers prefer to follow rather than look for the Snitch on their own. Plus it hacks off the other Seeker, which throws off their concentration."  
  
Gideon glanced at him.  
  
James shrugged again and focused his Omnioculars on Kensington and McMaster's. "I used to captain."  
  
Gideon nodded slowly, then said, "Well, Kensington never follows. He's got the fastest broom in the world, see? His Nimbus flies circles around McMasters' Comet, even if it is top of the line. Kensington's usual technique is to circle the top of the stadium, then go over to each goalpost and hover there for a while, then go straight into the middle of the action and circle, then repeat the whole thing. Works a lot of the time, too."  
  
James looked up from his Omnioculars at Prewett. "You have a lot of time on your hands, don't you, Pretty-Boy?"  
  
Prewett scowled. "I used to play," he responded curtly. "I studied the best Seekers in the world so I could emulate them."  
  
"Did it work?"  
  
Prewett didn't look up from the game. "Of course it did. I don't do anything half-assed, Potter."  
  
"D'you still play?"  
  
"No," Prewett replied shortly. "Wrist injury when I was twenty. I can't fly half as well as I used to."  
  
"How come?"  
  
Prewett sighed. "I can't navigate well." He paused, then said, "What the hell is Kensington doing?"  
  
James turned his attention back to the game. Kensington seemed to have stopped, right in the middle of the field, and had drawn out his wand. He pointed it directly at Ewen McMasters, and as James focused the Omnioculars more finely on the Wimbourne Seeker, he saw his mouth form the words 'Avada Kedavra'.  
  
There was a flash of green light, and Ewen McMasters fell seventy feet from his broom, hitting the ground after what seemed like hours.  
  
There was absolute silence in the crowd for about a minute.  
  
Then came the screams.  
  
James turned, numbly, from the Omnioculars to Prewett, whose freckles were standing out brilliantly against his grey face.  
  
"Bloody fucking hell," he said, his voice tremblingly clear.  
  
****  
  
Lily was considering the sheets.  
  
Chocolate would be interesting to get off the sheets. Especially with her aptitude at householdy spells. She could get a good Scourgify, but she wondered if even that would get a 64-ounce container of Honeydukes chocolate out of her nice, cream colored sheets.  
  
Lily thought about this as she paced the bedroom wearing the new slip she had bought on a whim a couple of weeks back and had been saving for a special occasion. She had been in Muggle London, having lunch with her mother, and they had decided that a little walk would be in order, as it had been a lovely, sunny day, not a cloud in the sky, truly. As they chattered and window shopped, Lily had spotted this confection in the window of a lingerie shop. She had actually stopped to look at it, and her mother had studied it as well. "The color would work on you, Lily," she had said, which had made her blush, as she didn't want her mother to think of her as someone who bought things like that, even if she was a person who bought things like that. She still got embarrassed when her mother wandered over to the underwear department when they shopped together.  
  
But the slip had been on her mind the whole day, and every time she even thought about James, the slip popped into her mind, and she found herself imagining his reaction to it...among other things.  
  
The next morning, she had gone to the shop and picked it up. Just so it would go away.  
  
Her mother had been right, the color (a light gold that could only be described as 'champagne') did seem to soften her hair and eyes, which Lily always thought stood out too much for their own good. The slip itself was not nearly as risque as some of the things James picked out for her; in fact, by his standards, it was tame. It was a silken fabric, fairly long by lingerie standards (about three inches from her knees) and had no horrible slits or tacky lace cutouts. The neckline did not plunge, or separate the whole thing in half, or show too much. It had very thin straps (she actually hadn't even seen them on the mannequin in the window) and had a nice, cream colored lace bordering the neckline and the back....the back! That almost made her giggle, because there was no back. There were the straps, some lace, and then at her waist, there was the skirt again! She had not seen that part of it in the window, but when she saw the whole thing, it actually made her like it more.  
  
But there had not been an opportunity to show it to James until now. Of course, as soon as he saw it, it would be replaced by chocolate, but she thought that she could live with that.  
  
Lily paced around the room again, wondering if she should just take the sheets off altogether. But then, she reasoned with herself, it would be much easier to get chocolate out of sheets than out of a mattress.  
  
The sheets stayed, she decided.  
  
There was an urgent knock on the door, and it made Lily start, curious as to who could be here. James never knocked; come to think of it, James never even used the door. His friends knew that he was at the Quidditch match, and she had told hers that she would be out shopping.  
  
But maybe James was just trying to be romantic (she almost laughed) and was going to....pick her up as soon as she opened the door or something.  
  
Shrugging, Lily went to the door. "Who is it?"  
  
"It's Remus and Sirius," Remus's voice said from the other side.  
  
"We were just wondering if you happened to be naked," Sirius's voice added.  
  
Feeling a blush spread to her cheeks at the thought that she was pretty close to it, she called, "Hold on, hold on!" and quickly grabbed a dressing gown from the bathroom before opening the door to James's friends.  
  
They entered much as it the house was their own, and both of their faces were surprisingly solemn. "Lily," Remus said.  
  
"What?" Lily asked, confused. "What's the matter?" She caught Sirius's eye. His expression didn't match the joking tone of voice he had used earlier. "What's wrong?" she repeated, a cold feeling spreading from the tips of her toes to the ends of her hair.  
  
"I think you need to sit down," Remus said softly, meeting her eyes for a split second then looking away again.  
  
"No, I don't need to sit down," Lily responded tersely, the cold feeling spreading and forming a nice little knot that lodged itself in her throat, causing her to choke on her next words: "What's wrong?"  
  
Remus and Sirius exchanged glances. "Lily, there's...there's been an attack. At the Quidditch match," Remus said, and Sirius looked away, rubbing his temples anxiously and biting his lip.  
  
Sirius, in all the time Lily had known him, had never looked as scared as he did now.  
  
She felt very cold all of a sudden, even colder than she had before. "I....I....where....what's the Order doing?"  
  
"They've sent people," said Remus. "We...weren't allowed to go. Dumbledore said that....he was afraid of what we might find."  
  
He was afraid of what we might find.  
  
"So...so does he think....does he think James is...." she trailed off, her voice shaking.  
  
"No one knows, Lily," Sirius told her. She was blinking furiously, and her whole body was trembling. Sirius took her arm and started to lead her to the sofa. "Come on, you need to sit down--"  
  
She threw his arm off. "What happened?" she demanded fiercely, gripping the arm of the sofa (James had bought the sofa the week after he graduated from school, he had gone with his parents on a giant shopping spree for everything he could need for the house--he'd brought her to his newly furnished house the day after, led her to the couch with that trademark smirk on his face, "What d'you say we break it in?" Oh, he was so brash--) tightly to keep from falling over; she felt faint, but she refused to show that to Remus and Sirius. Remus and Sirius, his best friends, were fine. There was fear etched in every single line of their faces, but they weren't falling all over themselves. She could be like them. She would be like them.  
  
Sirius bit his lip and impulsively pulled Lily into a hug. She stiffened against his chest, and didn't make any moves to put her arms around his waist or anything. She just stood there. "They, uh....the Quidditch players went beserk. Pretty much the whole Wasps team...." He inhaled a breath. "It was Polyjuice. Four people on the Wasps team were actually Death Eaters, and about fifty more descended on the stadium later. Just started shooting spells into the crowd. They, um....they blocked the exits, but the Order freed those up and they're trying to fight off the Death Eaters and get people out at the same time."  
  
"Fifty-four Death Eaters is not enough to take on seven thousand people, though," Remus pointed out.  
  
"No, but it's enough to give a good scare to those seven thousand and their friends and families," Sirius said.  
  
***  
  
Lily, still in her slip and dressing gown, Sirius, and Remuus had Apparated to the Order headquarters about an hour ago, and were trying to make themselves useful, with little to no results.  
  
Lily couldn't concentrate on anything, and was becoming steadily more clumsy than she had ever been in her life. She kept dropping piles of papers, running into things, and other similarly embarrassing and stupid things until Molly Weasley, a kindly, motherly sort of woman, gently suggested that she take a 'break' for a cup of tea. Lily did not like sitting around doing nothing when there was...well, when there was something important going on, but she reluctantly agreed that she wasn't of much help in this state.  
  
Molly sat her down at the conference table and bustled around making two cups of tea, which, with the aid of magic (Molly Weasley certainly had mastered the householdy spells that Lily abhorred), took little to no time at all. She joined Lily at the table and pushed her tea towards her, saying, "Drink, it will make you feel so much better."  
  
Lily took a sip and noticed that Molly had liberally shot it with firewhiskey. That almost made her smile. She seemed to remember that she had just had a baby not too far back, and so she politely asked, "So, how is the baby?"  
  
"Babies," Molly corrected pleasantly. "I had twins in April." She sighed. "They are terrors."  
  
Lily's eyes widened. She had never heard anyone refer to their children as anything but 'bundles of joy' and other such sickening things. "Oh," she said, not sure of what to say to that.  
  
Molly smiled. "They just keep you busy, children." She paused, watching Lily sip her tea for lack of anything better to do. "Are you all right, dear?" she finally asked tentatively.  
  
Lily started to nod absently, then slowly turned that nod into the shake of a head. She didn't remove the teacup from her lips, taking comfort in the warm liquid gently swishing against her mouth as she stared at the doorway, which was completely devoid of entrants.  
  
Molly sighed and sipped her own tea. "This is not easy, of course," she said, sighing again as she stirred the tea to have something to do with her hands. "And I'm afraid it doesn't get any easier." She paused, ascertaining Lily's reaction. There didn't seem to be much of one; this information seemed to be things she already knew. "It gets harder, in fact," she continued, unable to stop herself. "You make more friends, and they get into more danger..."  
  
"I know," Lily suddenly broke in. "I knew that...I knew that there was a possibility that this could happen when I got involved, but....I guess I never really expected it to actually happen to me." She set her teacup down and traced the obligatory floral pattern absently with her right index finger. As she continued to speak, she stared down at the cup, as though she were afraid to make eye contact. "And now that it has, I just....I'm really...I'm really scared." She finally looked up at Molly, and her eyes were unusually bright. "Is it okay that I'm scared?"  
  
"It's perfectly okay," Molly replied.  
  
Lily nodded and looked down at her hands, her eyes landing on her engagement ring. Molly followed her gaze.  
  
"When's the wedding?" she asked softly, unable to think of anything else to say. She hated silence.  
  
Lily sucked in a very shaky breath. "June," she said simply. "It's in June."  
  
"That's lovely," Molly said politely. "I was married in June."  
  
Lily looked up and was just about to say that that was very nice when something stopped her.  
  
James was standing in the doorway of the conference room, looking very tired and very...sweaty...but smiling.  
  
Lily blinked, trying to ascertain whether or not he was real. Surely she was imagining this.  
  
He smiled still and said, his voice slightly hoarse but still very James, "Hi."  
  
And Lily stood up and walked to him, her legs shaking a little from the shock. She put her arms around his neck, buried her face in his chest, and found herself breaking into hysterical, trembling sobs.  
  
"Well, there's no need for me, I suppose," she heard Molly say, and soon she felt the other woman brush past her, and heard the door close neatly behind her.  
  
After she had cried for a good five minutes without James saying anything (he never really said anything when she cried; he knew it made her feel uncomfortable), he broke the silence by clearing his throat and saying, "Um, what are you wearing under that dressing gown?"  
  
She laughed thickly and pulled away a little, opening her robe at the neck and allowing him a peek.  
  
"That's nice," he said, pulling her to him again. "When did you get that?"  
  
"A couple of weeks ago," she responded.  
  
"Hm. It's nice; I like it."  
  
There was silence for another couple of minutes until Lily said, "You're never going to a Quidditch game again."  
  
"Oh, I know. I've rather...lost the taste for them, anyway," he said dryly.  
  
She bit her lip. "James, is Gideon...?"  
  
"Oh, he's fine, don't you worry about him," he assured her. "He would've come up, but he rather thought that he'd be ignored."  
  
There was silence again, until she asked, "Was it horrible?"  
  
He was quiet for a few seconds before replying, "It was easily the worst thing I've ever seen in my life."  
  
*****  
  
A/N: I can't say that I'm entirely happy with Lily in this chapter; I can usually picture how she would react to a situation or a line of dialogue or whatever it is that I'm writing, but I couldn't picture her here. Thus, we got OOC!Lily. Sorry 'bout that; hopefully she will return to me for 9.  
  
And as for Remus, he will certainly be making himself more known in the coming chapters...and so will Peter, and I think Master Regulus should be coming back in a much less cutesy manner fairly soon. So stay tuned, minions. :) 


	9. Walking Out

Tripping Down the Aisle  
  
Chapter Nine: Walking Out  
  
-----  
  
Monday, 24 December  
  
Six months  
  
---  
  
The screams were echoing in his head again, ringing in his ears and overpowering his efforts at rational thoughts. He was back at the stadium, returning to the scene of the crime.  
  
James sat paralyzed in his seat, gripping his wand but not making any movement to raise it, as a hoarde of Death Eaters descended upon the stadium on brooms. Which James thought ironic, because he and Sirius had always joked (because that was how they dealt with things they couldn't change--they made humor out of it) that the real reason that people became Death Eaters was not because of their undying support of Voldemort and his ideals, but because they never could make their Quidditch team. It wasn't the time, but in his head, James found himself making a joke: 'This is probably the only time these people will ever be on a professional Quidditch field'.  
  
"Fuck, Potter!" Prewett was shouting as he pushed James onto the cold cement floor of the stands to duck a spell. "You call yourself an Auror?!"  
  
James mentally shook himself and returned his attention back to the situation at hand. Moody always said that if he had one fault, it was that in potentially dangerous circumstances he let his mind wander out of sheer nervousness. Moody said that his mind refused to concentrate on what was going on and purposely set itself on other things.  
  
Moody had also said that this could get him killed.  
  
Moody was probably right.  
  
James shakily raised his wand and peeked over the seat in front of him, unable to focus still. "What should we do?" he asked Prewett, who was sitting up uncertainly next to him as people yelled and ducked spells around them.  
  
Prewett's green eyes were intently studying the Death Eaters on brooms. "What should we do?" he repeated violently, incredulously. It appeared to James that Prewett was becoming more and more agressive as time went on. He didn't seem to be so much of a pansy anymore. It also seemed that he, James, was annoying him. "We fight, you prat."  
  
The whole stadium was trembling with the force of the spells. James found himself being forcibly shaken, and tried to pull away from the person's grip...  
  
"James," Lily's voice was saying softly, "James, you're dreaming again."  
  
His eyes opened, and Lily was leaning over him, her hair brushing his shoulder. She was holding a glass of water and looking very tired.  
  
It took him a few moments to remember where he was, to regain his bearings. "Sorry," he said breathlessly, pushing his hair out of his eyes and noting with dismay that it was wet with sweat. "Sorry," he repeated for lack of anything better to say as he tried to remove the images of the Death Eaters, their cowardly faces covered with black hoods, flying toward him.  
  
"Don't be stupid," she replied briskly, handing him the glass of water and leaning against the headboard, half-heartedly tugging at his hair. "It's not your fault."  
  
He gulped down a few sips of water and kicked off the blankets that were twisted around him, which made it very difficult for him to move. "What time is it?" James asked in a vain attempt to distract himself again.  
  
"A little after two," Lily told him, adjusting her pillows and settling back on them, pulling James's discarded blankets around her. "Are you okay?" she added softly.  
  
James shrugged absently, polishing off the water and setting the glass down on his bedside table, eyes lingering on the dim light coming from the lamp next to him. "I guess," he replied uncomfortably. "I mean, I'm not exactly...." He struggled for a good word, "...chipper, or...or anything." He closed his eyes and rubbed them. "I'm sorry I woke you up, though."  
  
"Stop apologizing, you prat," Lily said, putting one hand under her pillows and moving closer to him, putting her other hand on his chest. "If it were me yelling in my sleep, you'd do the same thing."  
  
"Yeah," he mumbled.  
  
Lily looked up at him, her eyes meeting his. Sighing, she removed her hand from his chest and reached for his left hand, intertwining her fingers with his. "I feel guilty," she announced, moving her thumb along the side of his hand, "because I told you to go to the stupid Quidditch game. I guilt- tripped you into doing something you didn't want to do, and look where it got you..." She bit her lip. "Fighting Death Eaters."  
  
He hadn't considered this before and she'd never mentioned it. But then, they didn't talk about what had happened at the Quidditch pitch much. Lily was content with what she learned at the Order meetings, for the most part. "'S'not your fault," he muttered gruffly.  
  
"Is," she corrected. "And I hate what it's doing to you. And the fact that I caused it...it's not great."  
  
She was embarrassing him a little. He hated admitting when something was bothering him, especially to his girlfriend. Twisting and turning and yelling in his sleep because of a nightmare...at the age of twenty. It was almost like having to wake your mother at four in the morning and tell her that you needed a change of sheets because you wet the bed when you were ten years old. Not that he had done that or anything. "It's nothing, really," James lied, concentrating intently on the slight sparkle coming from the diamond on her hand in his. With his finger, he turned the ring around so that the stone poked at his palm.  
  
"Don't tell me it's nothing," she said forcefully. "I hate it when you lie to me." Softening her voice considerably, she added, "I don't think any less of you because of it, if that's what you're worried about. Anyone who lived through something like that would feel the same way...if it were me, James, I wouldn't be able to do anything for months, much less sleep. I would be a nervous wreck."  
  
He said nothing, still focusing on her hand in his. He wished she would keep talking; Lily's voice was very familiar and somehow soothing. But maybe that was just because her voice was not that of a Death Eater's.  
  
"I love you, d'you know that?" Lily said quietly, wearily.  
  
He knew, but never tired of hearing it. "Yeah."  
  
"Good," she said, resting her chin on his shoulder and looking up at him. "Think you could tell me about it?"  
  
James always got very quiet when she inquired as to what happened down at the Quidditch pitch. She never asked more than once, something he was glad for. Living through it a million times in his nightmares was more than enough. "Not yet," he mumbled, closing his eyes and seeing Gideon Prewett pull out his wand next to him, swearing in between hexes...  
  
Lily accepted this. "Think you can sleep?"  
  
No use lying. "I don't know. Probably not."  
  
"Want to go watch the telly?"  
  
"Nothing on."  
  
"That's true," she agreed. "Want to eat?"  
  
"We don't have any food," James pointed out.  
  
"Also true."  
  
****  
  
"I love Christmas," Sirius declared, leaning back against the wall, practically sitting underneath James and Lily's little Christmas tree. He looked up at the tree, batting at a shiny red bauble hanging on one of the lower branches, much like a cat would.  
  
"That wouldn't be because of the pile of presents under there with your name on them, would it?" James asked.  
  
"Why, James, do you know nothing of Sirius?" Remus said, pretending to be shocked from where he sat on the arm of the sofa eating a bowl of popcorn that was supposed to have been used to make strings for the tree before the five of them lost interest in that activity. "He's in it purely for the festiveness, for the joy of giving."  
  
"And all that other stuff," Peter added from the fireplace, where he was prodding at the flames absently with his wand, turning them different colors purely because he wanted to.  
  
"Nah," Sirius said, lifting the red ornament from its branch and examining his reflection in it. He grinned toothily at his face in the ornament as he smoothed his hair and said, "I'm in it for the presents."  
  
Lily smiled at him over her glass of wine. "Well, at least you're honest," she commented, downing the last of her drink and rising from her seat on the sofa. Stretching, she announced, "I need more wine. Anyone want to help me polish off the bottle we've got in the kitchen?"  
  
"Me!" Sirius said loudly from his position on the floor. "I wouldn't want to break the tradition of The Drunken Christmas Concert."  
  
Lily smirked as she went into the kitchen to fill her wine glass and to get one for Sirius.  
  
"What's on the set list this year?" James inquired, glancing over at Peter, who was currently making a fireworks display in the fireplace. "Careful, Wormtail; Lily'll spaz if you burn the carpet."  
  
"Yeah, because it's not like we could easily take burns out of the carpet with a spell or anything like that," Peter muttered sarcastically, putting a shield charm over the fireplace so as to protect the bland beige carpeting from stray sparks. James didn't hear him.  
  
"You know, Prongs," Sirius said, replacing the ornament on the tree and sitting up, "I couldn't tell you what beautiful music you will be hearing from me tonight. Once the delightful sensation of alcohol takes over," he sighed dramatically, "one never knows what will come."  
  
****  
  
What came was a very loud rendition of something that may or may not have been "Deck the Halls", sung in a high-pitched falsetto that threatened to break windows and burst eardrums.  
  
"Deck the...challs...with bingers of...dolly," Sirius sang softly, sitting cross-legged on the sofa, his wineglass lying empty and tipped over on the coffee table in front of him. Sirius grabbed his ankles and started to rock back and forth, repeatedly mumbling, "Fa log log log bog, bog ba, ba, da."  
  
"Please," Lily said, turning to her boyfriend, "please get out the Sobering Solution. It was funny at first, but after an hour and a half, I'm ready to punch him in the jaw."  
  
James grinned. "I think this concert has quite a bit more steam left in it, Lily."  
  
"Oh, please," Lily said exasperatedly. "You know you're just as annoyed as I am by it; you just like making me mad."  
  
"It always amazes me how smart you are, love," James replied cheekily, still positively beaming.  
  
Lily glared. "Do it."  
  
"Or you'll...?"  
  
Her eyes sparked. "Withhold sex."  
  
Both Remus and Peter gasped theatrically.  
  
"Oh, Lily, don't be cruel," Peter said, closing his eyes and moving his head away from her as if it pained him to look at her.  
  
"Please don't take from James the only thing he has ever loved that is not Quidditch," Remus added, his voice breathily dramatic.  
  
Lily rolled her eyes. "There is more to James than sex and Quidditch," she said defensively.  
  
"Yeah," James seconded awkwardly, his voice clearly saying that he didn't think that there was more to him. "There's more to me than sex and Quidditch."  
  
"Like?" Peter asked, quirking an eyebrow.  
  
Lily tossed her hair. "James has a lovely singing voice," she said.  
  
"Something that's actually important, Lily," Peter drawled.  
  
She narrowed her eyes in a very sarcastic way at him. Peter wasn't sure people actually could convey sarcasm with a look, but it sure looked sarcastic, the way Lily was looking at him. "He's smart," she said. "If I recall, he got higher marks than you in school, Peter."  
  
"'Cause he and Sirius copied off each other," Remus spoke up. "Sirius would do half, and James would do half."  
  
"I know that," Lily said. "But he could've done all of it if he wanted to. He's just lazy."  
  
"Too lazy do anything but have sex and play Quidditch," Peter said, nodding.  
  
"He's well-read," Lily pointed out, unfazed.  
  
"Lily, the only books he's ever read more than once are the 'Kama Sutra' and 'Quidditch Through the Ages'."  
  
"That's not true," James piped up. "I read that 'Death Be Not Proud' thing twice. At least."  
  
Lily bit her lip. "Well, love, that was because you cried so much through the first time that you couldn't actually concentrate on it," she said gently.  
  
James flushed. "It's a sad book!" he said defensively as Peter snickered.  
  
"See, he's sensitive," Lily said enthusiastically. "And he's funny, and he's charming, he's strong, he makes a good ice-cream sundae, he's thoughtful, and..."  
  
"You ran out of things, didn't you?" Peter smirked.  
  
She blushed, something she didn't do very often, especially around them. "No," she protested. "I didn't. The rest of them...involve sex and Quidditch, that's all."  
  
As Peter and Remus guffawed (Sirius joined in, simply to laugh) James shot her a look. "Those are all of my good attributes that don't involve sex and Quidditch?" he asked. "That's it?"  
  
"Well, at least you have good attributes that involve sex and Quidditch," Lily said slyly.  
  
James stared at her for a moment or so, then threw his arm around her. "See, this is why I'm marrying you," he declared.  
  
****  
  
"So, Moony," Sirius said casually (he had practically been force-fed Sobering Solution an hour before) as he shook the brightly wrapped parcel addressed to him in Remus's handwriting, "does this box contain a book?"  
  
They had moved on to present opening, and Sirius had taken on the role of Santa, as he often did. He kneeled in front of the tree, sorting through the pile of gifts and separating them into groups--the James group, the Lily group, the Peter group, and the Remus group. And, naturally, the Sirius group. Of course, Sirius tended to take gifts that looked sizely and put them in the Sirius group, whether or not they belonged there. As such, Remus was sitting on an ottoman close by, supervising the Passing of the Gifts as he forced down egg nog, which he did not really like, but drank anyway because it was Festive. James was sitting on the sofa, and Lily had lazily draped her legs over his lap. She had her elbow on the armrest and was holding her head up with her hand. It was a little after ten, and as they had both been up since two, both James and Lily were feeling a tad sleepy. Peter sat crosslegged on the floor, back against the sofa, and was playing with his stocking.  
  
Remus smiled a little. "You're a hard person to shop for, Sirius. You have the attention span of a gnat, only less focused--you can't decide what you want."  
  
Sirius blinked. "I meant a different kind of book, but if you got me a book, I'll just open yours last..." He set Remus's parcel aside and looked pointedly at its giver.  
  
"What are you talking about, Sirius?" Remus asked calmly.  
  
"I was hoping you got me a book of Girl Techniques, like the one you made James write."  
  
Lily turned to James, who looked puzzled. "Book of Girl Techniques, love?"  
  
"I got nothing," James told her. "Sirius, are you sure you aren't hoarding wine?"  
  
"You don't know what I'm talking about?" Sirius demanded impatiently.  
  
Peter snickered. "Well, no one ever does," he pointed out. He stretched out the opening of the stocking and jammed it over his head.  
  
Sirius glared. "Who died and made you Chief Comedian?"  
  
"I think the question is 'Who got drunk and made you Chief Comedian?', actually," Peter corrected.  
  
Remus scratched his nose and said, "All right, break it up. We don't need a repeat of last year."  
  
Grudgingly, Sirius and Peter muttered apologies at each other. Last year's Christmas Extravaganza involved Peter being snarky, much like he was being now, and Sirius getting violent because he felt that the Sobering Solution James had had to give him robbed him of his ability to snark back. To make a long story short, St. Mungo's was short three beds that night.  
  
"Anyway, Sirius," Lily said, "you were babbling?"  
  
Sirius drew himself up impressively and said, "The stupid stalker journal thing? James's security blanket? You gave it to him because you said he needed to observe Subject--er, Lily, Lily," he amended quickly, when Lily's eyes flashed in his direction. "I know your name is Lily."  
  
"What does my...er...research have to do with you, Padfoot?" James asked carefully.  
  
Sirius straightened again. "As you may or may not know, Prongs, I have recently suffered a rejection at the hand of Miss Hestia Jones."  
  
Lily made the connection and sat up straighter, too. "No, Sirius," she said sharply.  
  
"Why not?" Sirius asked, looking mildly hurt.  
  
"Because the woman is still grieving the death of her sister!" Lily exclaimed. "She sits at home waiting for information about the person who killed her; she probably cries herself to sleep at night....And you want to take her out for ice cream," she added flatly.  
  
"Not necessarily for ice cream. If she doesn't feel like ice cream, we don't have to have--"  
  
"Missing the point ever so slightly!" Lily said, talking over him. "The last thing Hestia Jones needs is for you to sleep with her and then abandon her."  
  
Everyone in the room instantly knew she had gone too far. Including Lily.  
  
"I'm sorry," she said quickly. "I'm so, so sorry, Sirius, I...I didn't mean it like that--"  
  
Sirius shook his head and stood up. "No, no. Why would you feel sorry? That's what everyone thinks of me. I'm Sirius Black, I don't do long term relationships. Need a quickie in the bathroom? I'm your guy. But not for anything else."  
  
"No," Lily said enthusiastically. "You're wonderful, Sirius! I just really don't think that--"  
  
"Really, Lily," Sirius interrupted her, walking out into the front hallway as he spoke. When he returned, he was fastening his cloak with clumsy hands, "I think you've said quite enough." He finished putting on the cloak and shot a glance at his best friend. "I'll see you later."  
  
He Apparated without another word.  
  
****  
  
A/N: So this was an interesting switch of characters, wasn't it? Snarky!Peter, Fluffy!Lily, and Serious!James and Sirius.  
  
Next chapter: Hestia, Adeline-the-Wedding-Planner, and Gideon return. Possibly Regulus as well, I haven't decided. Also, there's a flashback and Remus meets his Subject.  
  
Till then... 


	10. Meet Me Halfway

Tripping Down the Aisle  
  
Chapter Ten: Meet Me Halfway  
  
---  
  
Sunday, 6 January  
  
Five months, eighteen days  
  
---  
  
"This wedding is getting entirely out of control," Lily declared, putting her face in her hands. Her voice slightly muffled, she continued, "I mean, I just put in a fifty-Galleon order for a bloody ice sculpture, James. Why do we need an ice scultpure?"  
  
"Because it's pretty?" James suggested, yawning.  
  
"Yes," Lily agreed, resurfacing. "The picture did make it look quite nice, didn't it?"  
  
James nodded, reaching for a folder that rested on her side of the kitchen table. "So what's this?" he asked, waving the folder at her.  
  
Lily glanced at it as she rifled through the stack of papers in front of her. "Er, I think that's the folder of wedding dresses Adeline suggested I take a look at," she responded.  
  
"Oh. Can I look?"  
  
"No," she replied instantly.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because," Lily told him, "I don't even know if I like any of those yet."  
  
James blinked. "So why is it such a big deal if I look at it?"  
  
"Because I might like one of them. And if I like one of them, I'll wear it to the wedding, and you'll have already seen it, and that will just ruin all the fun, don't you think?"  
  
"Lily," James said patiently, "I am a guy. I think that all wedding dresses look the same. In a month, I won't be able to tell what one of these from a shower curtain."  
  
Lily made a face. "That's very insensitive."  
  
He shook his head. "No, it's not. I read in a magazine somewhere that men have, like, less active memory cells in their brain. Or something like that. So it's not my fault. It's nature's fault. Nature is insensitive but I am not."  
  
Lily leaned back in her chair and picked up her tea. As she stirred it, she studied James intently.  
  
"What?" he asked finally.  
  
"That was in my Cosmo," she smirked. "You've been reading my Cosmos."  
  
James shrugged. "It's a pretty dirty magazine, Lily. It interests me."  
  
Lily smiled a little. "You're such a pervert," she said affectionately, leaning over and tugging on a lock of his hair.  
  
"I am what you made me," he replied angelically.  
  
She scoffed. "You were a pervert long before I started dating you," she said, returning to her seat and selecting a page from her stack.  
  
"Well, yeah," James agreed, "but when I liked you before we started dating. That's when I became a pervert. Daydreams of you caused me to become the dirty man I am today. So all those things you said annoyed you about me, they were your fault."  
  
"Your obnoxiousness was not my fault!" Lily laughed, giving up and setting down her paper.  
  
"Was too!"  
  
"No, it wasn't! That was a side effect of you being a teenage boy, James," she smiled.  
  
He considered this. "Well, maybe that's possible," he conceded, pointing his finger at her, squinting his eyes seriously, "but you should still take at least partial responsibility."  
  
"Fine," she said. "Your personality is all my fault."  
  
"I just said 'partial'," James said, straightening. "If you took full credit, that wouldn't be fair to me."  
  
****  
  
"She's not here yet," Sirius announced, peering into the window of the Three Breemsticks, "so we have more time to review." He pulled away from the window and beamed expectantly at Remus.  
  
"More time?" Remus repeated, laughing hollowly. "Sirius, I think I know more about this woman than I know about myself! I think, in fact, that in the time it took me to learn her favorite candy I forgot mine."  
  
Sirius shrugged unconcernedly and ran a hand through his hair. "So? Maybe-- maybe it changed. Maybe you suddenly decided you don't like Ice Mice anymore. Maybe, after lunch, I can take you to Honeydukes and get you a new favorite candy--if you don't mess this up for me, Moony!"  
  
Remus noted with discomfort that Sirius had That Glint in those decievingly deep blue eyes of his. That Glint was responsible for many a demerit in school, oh yes. That time Sirius had decided it would be a lark to replace all the contents of the teachers' edition of their Transfiguration textbook with pages from a dirty magazine? That Glint was in his eyes then. The switching of all the Gryffindor girls' perfume with a pretty strong (and equally illegal) aphrodisiac? That Glint. That Glint was a manic gleam of conviction that told you that Sirius was bordering on insanity.  
  
"Okay," Remus mumbled half-heartedly, putting his hands in his pockets and kicking at some gray slush on the ground. "Quiz me, then."  
  
Sirius, become acutely aware of the cold, rubbed his hands together and blew on them, his breath coming out in a little puff of mist. "Er...favorite book."  
  
"I can't remember," Remus responded dully. "I'm still thinking of the candy. That one is Licorice Wands."  
  
Sirius took one of his hands away from his face and calmly whacked Remus on the back of the head. "Concentrate, Moony! You did better with these questions when you were dr--Hestia!" Sirius quickly ran a hand through his hair and grinned in what he felt was an attractive manner.  
  
Remus turned around in time to see a startlingly pretty dark-haired woman approaching them, smiling widely so that the tiniest hints of laugh lines appeared around her eyes, which were dark. "H!" she said cheerfully. "Have you been waiting outside for me? It's really cold." As if to further the point, she pulled her violet cloak closer to herself.  
  
"Um," Remus said intelligently.  
  
Sirius shot his friend a curious glance. "Er, no, actually," he smiled, laughing charmingly, "Remus and I, we, er, we just got here."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Oh, yeah," Remus chimed in. "Yeah, we, we...er, just got here. I'm...I herld him up. Lost my scarf. And, you know, I didn't want to be without my scarf." He nodded. "Because--because it's cold."  
  
Sirius was staring at him as if he had never seen him before.  
  
Hestia, however, looked highly amused. "You're not wearing a scarf, though," she pointed out, smiling.  
  
Remus blinked, then laughed nervously. "Oh, yeah," he said, laughing as though he found this wildly hilarious when he actually just wanted to die or be slapped so he'd stop talking, "Yeah, I...I never actually found it. You would think it would be easy to find, right? I mean, it's blue--I mean, bright blue, Lily, er, Lily says it makes me features look sharp, because I guess I have very dull features by nature. My nose, see, it's very--very rounded, but my chin is sort of square; Lily says that it's my best feature. She says it makes me look strong and Roman. Because I guess Romans were strong."  
  
There was a ringing sort of silence that followed this, and Remus found himself flushing out of sheer embarrassment.  
  
"Why don't we go inside?" Sirius suggested after a few moments of this.  
  
"Yes, please," Remus said, his voice oddly strained.  
  
****  
  
"Adeline," Lily said, her voice thick with impatience, "I really don't see the importance of seating arrangements. I mean, there is always going to be some people who will not like who they're sitting with, and--" She snapped her fingers, "--James, do you remember when we went to...to...what's her name?...Oh! Jaimie Catheter's wedding and she had accidentally put a woman next to her husband's mistress?"  
  
James shifted his weight in his seat and grinned. Finally, something he could comment on. "Oh, yeah," he said reminiscently. "The mistress got her ass kicked, didn't she? It was really funny, especially when the mistress's dress went over her head and she wasn't wearing any underwear because she knew she was going to go have sex with the best man."  
  
Lily nodded. "There were traumatized children involved," she said solemnly. "Tears."  
  
"And a very disappointed best man," James agreed, smirking.  
  
Lily turned back to Adeline. "I don't want that to happen at my wedding."  
  
Adeline smiled primly. "Well, do you know that many people who have mistresses?"  
  
Lily smiled just as tightly. "Not that I know of. But the invitations do say to invite a guest."  
  
Adeline nodded, still smiling. "Of course. Be that as it may, if you don't have a seating arrangement, chances are there won't be enough room for people who want to sit together to do so."  
  
Lily considered this, then turned to her fiance. "What do you think, love?"  
  
Both she and Adeline turned their attention to him. James froze at the sudden pressure. "Um," he said. "Um, whatever you want."  
  
"I don't know what I want, and I make too many decisions as it is," Lily said. "You make a decision."  
  
He had a 50/50 chance of getting this right.  
  
He was never good at guessing.  
  
"Um, sea-seating arrangements," James stuttered.  
  
Lily smiled at him, one of her nice smiles, then turned back to Adeline. "Then we'll have seating arrangements," she said decidedly.  
  
****  
  
A/N: Okay, I know this is way short. And I didn't solve the conflict with Sirius and Lily--because he is still mad at her. But next chapter it will. Be solved, I mean.  
  
And I'm sorry for this taking so long. It wasn't a ploy for reviews (though the reviews are very nice, and so are the 319 favorites' listers, thank you very much for them!), it's just a manner of me being without a computer. It's hurting me just as much as it's hurting you--if it's hurting you.  
  
That's it for me. It's your turn now. :) 


	11. Birthday

Tripping Down the Aisle

Chapter Eleven: Birthday 

****

Saturday, 19 January 

_Five months, five days_

Monday was James's twenty-first birthday.

  
He was making quite sure that every person he had ever met realized this as well.

 "Two days until my birthday, love," he announced as soon as Lily opened her eyes on Saturday morning. 

 "I know," Lily replied patiently, rubbing sleep out of her eyes and yawning. While it had been almost endearing for the first, oh, nine days or so, James's constant countdown was starting to wear a little thin. James, however, did not share this view. In fact, as the date drew nearer, he had actually progressed to counting down the hours and minutes, provided he had a Magic Math tablet lying around to help him out, since wasn't particularly good with numbers.

  James, sitting up in bed and leaning against his pillows, began to idly play with Lily's hair, wrapping it around alternating fingers as he spoke. "I do hope you've been working on your speech," he said lightly. Looking down at her and meeting her skeptical but slightly amused eyes, he continued, "You know, the one in which you thank my parents for producing such a spectacular specimen of Man and declare January twenty-first your favorite day ever. And then you insist that, in the event that we ever mature enough to have children, we absolutely must time the date of conception so that you'll give birth on January twenty-first, because obviously, if we ever want our child to amount to anything, that will just have to be his birthday. While you were sleeping," James continued, just as Lily opened her mouth to respond, sure he was finished, "I took it upon myself to calculate the day that I will have to get you pregnant in order for that to occur, are you ready for it?"

 Lily opened her mouth to reply again, but was, for the second time, cut off.

 "May twenty-first," James told her proudly. "Or...April. I'm not sure. You know I'm crap with arithmetic. But it doesn't matter, you know why? We'll have sex on both days, that's why. Just to be sure, you know?" He had his left hand in her hair and his right was supporting his head. "What do you think?"  James blinked down with ridiculously innocent eyes.

 Lily exhaled loudly, smiling. "I think you've been drinking."

 "Me? Drinking?"

 "Oh, don't act like it's such a foreign concept," Lily laughed. "You've been drinking since the age of fifteen."

 "But never at nine in the morning," he pointed out. "At least not unless it's mixed with coffee. And you're no saint, either, little miss 'I got so trashed on my eighteenth birthday I threw up in my boyfriend's closet and then passed out there.'" 

 She rolled her eyes and attempted to sit up, but his hand was still in her hair, and when she lifted herself, it kind of hurt. "James."

 "Oh, but don't worry," James assured her. "I still love you. Even when you smell like dead squirrels."

 Lily couldn't help but laugh; for some reason, James seemed exceedingly entertaining this morning. "No, it's not that," she said, "although that's good to know. No, I'm trying to sit up."

 He glanced down at her with a strange look in his eyes. "Well, good luck with that, then," he said jerkily, unsure of what she was talking about. 

 She gave up. "Your hand, love," she said, reaching over and removing it from her hair and sitting up in one quick movement. 

"Oh," James replied, grabbing her pillow and hugging it to himself as she stepped out of bed. "Well, you could've said something."

 "Did," she responded, moving to the closet and pushing hangers aside as she searched for a specific top. "Have you seen that shirt of mine?"

 "You have a lot of shirts, Lily," James said idly, picking at some lint on her pillow. "In fact, I do believe you have too many shirts." He batted his eyelashes at her. "What do you say we get rid of all of them?"

 Lily took a break from the closet long enough to cast him a sidelong glance. "No," she said, "I don't think anyone but you would appreciate that." She returned to the row of hangers. "I'm looking for that top…the dark blue silk one that's too big up top so it kind of hangs off my shoulders?" She glanced at him. "You like that top."

 "Doesn't mean I know where it is. What are you doing today?"

 "Er, I think I'm going to have lunch with my mother," Lily said, "and then I'm going to go run some errands." She kneeled down, frowning, and disappeared into the depths of the closet, occasionally sending a piece of clothing flying over the boundary of Closet and into Bedroom territory. "Here are those boxers you wanted," Lily added, tossing them to him. 

 James leaned over to retrieve them where they had landed, about three inches away from falling off the bed. They were green and plaid and he could not remember when or why he had wanted them, but pushed that aside, instead deciding to focus on something else Lily had said. "Errands, huh?"

 "Errands," Lily confirmed, her voice muffled, as she was currently sorting through a pile of sweaters that were from either her third year in school or James's first. 

 "Errands for my…birthday party?"

 Lily poked her head out of the closet, quirking an eyebrow at him. She looked strangely dusty. "Maybe," she said. 

 "Can I come?"

 She shook her head and returned to the sweaters. "Do you recognize this?" she asked, holding up a navy blue argyle-patterned sweater.

 James squinted. "I think it's mine."

 Lily frowned and turned the sweater towards herself so she could examine it more closely. "Are you sure?" she asked doubtfully. 

 James yawned, completely uninterested but humoring her. "Yeah," he said. "I remember because my mother made me wear it on the first day of my fifth year because she said it made my shoulders look broader."

 Lily frowned again. "Are you sure?" she repeated.

 "Love, I'm positive. Now back to my birthday."

 "Because I'm fairly sure that I have pictures of me in this sweater," Lily continued. 

 James sighed. "Does it have shoulder pads?"

 Lily checked. "Yes."

 "It's mine. Now about my birthday."

  Lily put the sweater down, looking as though she was trying very hard not to laugh. "Why did your mother put shoulder pads in your sweater?" she asked, her voice painfully jerky with the effort. 

 James ran a hand through his hair. "Well, she didn't want me to get made fun of because I hadn't quite filled out yet."

 Lily rose from the closet and crossed the room to him. "So she bought you shoulder pads just like the other boys," she said, her voice still strained. 

 James shot her his best withering glare. "I'll have you know that Sirius wore shoulder pads in third year because he wanted to have shoulders like the rest of the Quidditch team."

 "Except for you."

 "Except for me," James agreed sourly. "Because I had baby shoulders."

 Lily, fighting a smile, lowered herself down onto the bed next to him and put her arms around his shoulders. "I like your baby shoulders," she said. "They're…delicate and soft." She kissed the one nearest to her for emphasis.

 Positively mortified, James shrugged her off. "They're not _delicate!" _he exclaimed, leaping to his feet. "They're _manly!" _

Lily finally burst into a fit of giggles. 

 "They _are!" _James insisted, flushing several different shades of red. 

 "I'm sorry, love," Lily managed to choke out through her laughter. "You're right. They're…really…macho." That set her off again. 

 James glared and put his hands on his hips in an unintentionally feminine manner, which just made Lily laugh even harder. By this time, she had tears streaming from her eyes and was essentially hyperventilating. "I'm glad you think my own personal hell is so hilarious!" James yelled over her hysterics, storming out of the room.

 "You are such a drama queen!" Lily called after him before dissolving into another fit of giggles.

 "Are we supposed to be doing anything for Prongsie's birthday?" Sirius asked, reaching for today's _Daily Prophet. _He turned to the sports page and put his feet up on Remus's coffee table. 

 "Yes," Remus responded, eyeing Sirius's feet warily over his cup of tea. "Um, I think Lily's having a…thing at his parents' house." 

 A flicker of disappointment flitted across Sirius's face. "Oh," he muttered darkly, turning the page of the paper loudly and deliberately. 

"What?" Remus demanded, though he was pretty sure he already knew. 

 _"Lily," _Sirius mumbled sardonically. "God, does she have to be absolutely _everywhere?"_

 Remus frowned. "Well, yes, I _do _think she will want to be present at her fiancé's birthday," he said slowly. 

 Sirius put down the paper and glared. "You know what I mean." 

 "You're not still mad about what she said at Christmas, are you?" Remus asked incredulously.   
  


 "Of course I am!" Sirius exclaimed. "Moony, she called me a man-whore! I will not forget that easily!" 

 "She did not call you a man-whore," Remus said dismissively. 

 "Oh, she _so _called me a man-whore." 

 Remus set his tea on the coffee table next to Sirius's paper. "I was there, Sirius," he said patiently, "and never once did I hear the words 'Sirius, you are a man-whore' come out of Lily's mouth." 

 Sirius waved his hand impatiently as though deeming that fact unnecessary. "She didn't _have _to say it. She _implied _it, okay? And I think that's worse, don't you? You know, it's like she didn't actually have the stones to call me a man-whore to my face, so she just made little hints about it. And I think I would've appreciated it more if she had just stood up and said, 'Sirius, you are a man-whore' than shipping out little hints like a stupid…hint army. Or a hint police. No, that doesn't work…" 

 "So if she had stood up and said, 'Sirius, you are a man-whore', you wouldn't be mad?" Remus reiterated skeptically. 

 "Of course I'd be _mad," _Sirius said, staring at Remus in an annoyed fashion, as though Remus wasn't getting the point and it was really starting to upset him, "I just would've appreciated her honesty." 

 "Her honesty?"

 "Yeah."

 "So you're saying that you _are _a man-whore, and you really want someone to just tell you so?"

 "No, you prat," Sirius said, glaring. "Why would I want someone to call me a man-whore?" 

 Remus stood up to take his empty teacup to the sink. "I really don't know, Sirius." 

 Sirius seemed to be thinking. "A pimp, maybe," he said thoughtfully after a few minutes. 

 Remus stopped at the kitchen doorway. "What?" 

 "I don't think I'd mind someone calling me a pimp," Sirius clarified. 

 Remus stayed where he was, the teacup still in his hand. "Is—is that nicer?"

 Sirius shrugged and picked up the paper again. "Oh, I dunno," he said idly, turning to the sports page again and squinting to read the scores for yesterday's Wasps-Tornadoes game. "I just think that 'pimp' holds more…respect, you know? Because pimps have their own hos. Man-whores are the hos of someone else." 

 Remus shook his head, positively astonished. "You seriously worry me sometimes," he told Sirius, crossing over into the kitchen. 

 Sirius smiled faintly behind his paper. "That's nice of you, Moony," he replied.  

 Remus set his teacup in the sink and re-entered the living room, dropping lazily into an armchair by the fire. "But really, Sirius," he said, "you have to go to James's birthday party." 

 "I don't _have _to do anything," Sirius responded blankly. 

 "He's your best friend," Remus tried again. "And besides, it's not _him _you're mad at. Don't punish him because you're upset with his girlfriend. Not to mention, if you go, you can patch things up with Lily and you won't have to avoid James at all. Problems solved."

 Sirius raised his eyebrows. "Why do you want me to 'patch things up' with Lily so much?" he wanted to know.

 "Well, you can't go through your entire life hating her." 

 "I've hated Snape since the age of eleven, and I don't exactly see you trying to get me to go to Tupperware parties with him," Sirius muttered.

 "Sirius, just go to the party. You don't have to talk to Lily at all. James will really want you there," Remus said exasperatedly. 

 Sirius scoffed and folded up the paper again. "You're being a real girl about this, Moony," he said. "I was always going to go." 

 "So you're going," Remus clarified, ignoring the slight.

 "Of course I am," Sirius said, tossing the paper onto the coffee table and yawning, running his hands through his hair. "It's Prongs, isn't it? If I don't go to his birthday, he won't get me a good present for mine."

 "Do you think you might…bring Hestia?" 

 Sirius paused, considering this. 

 "I don't know," he said anxiously. "Do you think she'd even want to go with me? I mean, it's not like she knows James or anything like that, and I know she doesn't...well, I just don't think she'd be that interested in going with me, is all." He reddened a little. "Probably think I was coming on to her or something."

 "Well, wouldn't you be?"

 "Yeah. She's smart like that; always knows when I'm trying to make a pass at her."

 Remus nodded solemnly. "That's a good quality to have in a woman." 

 _Monday, 21 January_

_Five months, three days _

"Lily, where are my presents?" James demanded, standing on his tiptoes to lean over the counter in order to get closer to his girlfriend, who was currently fixing herself a drink. 

"Unless you opened them all already and are just trying to make me think they're mysteriously lost like you did last year, they're on the table," Lily responded lightly, dropping three ice cubes into her cup. 

"Which table?" James asked, following her out of the kitchen and into the living room, where most (if not all) of the guests were standing around, chattering. "Because, you know, this house is massive. There are tables everywhere."

 Lily sighed and seated herself on the edge of a chair. "I don't know, James," she said. "Your mother wanted to be in charge of presents. So you'd be better off asking her."

James looked slightly crushed. "But she won't tell me," he whined. 

"That's the point." She smiled and glanced up at the door. "Is Sirius coming?" she asked. "I don't see him."

 "Oh," James responded, without thinking. "That's probably because he's avoiding you."

 Lily lowered her cup from her mouth, looking slightly crushed. "He's _avoiding _me?"

 James, realizing what he had said, tried to fix it. "Oh, well…yes. But in a good way."

 Lily frowned. "There is no good way to avoid someone, James," she said.

 "Sure there is!" James exclaimed, a little too heartily. "Like, if you like someone. You might avoid them because you're too shy to talk to them."

 "But Sirius doesn't _like _me," Lily pointed out. 

 "You never know," James said. "He's always said you were hot. In fact, in fourth year, he had a bit of a crush on you."

 "Yeah?" Lily asked hopefully.

 "Oh, yeah!" James said, enthused at the thought that he was making Lily a little happier. "Yeah, yeah, he told me he thought you were completely doable."

  Lily blinked and wrinkled her nose. "_Doable?"_ she echoed.

 "Sure!"

 "Ew, James, that's gross," she declared, taking a particularly large swig of her drink.

 "Well, I'm just trying to make you feel better," he said defensively.

  "That's very nice and everything," Lily said, "but don't. Not like that, anyway. Is he still mad about Christmas?"

 James nodded. 

 Lily sighed. "Okay, what do I say to make it better?"

 James shrugged. "I don't know," he replied honestly. "Sirius is unpredictable. Whatever you say might just make him even more mad." 

 "Thank you for your help," Lily said sarcastically.

 "Well, you could try telling him that you really didn't mean it like that, and you don't want him to be mad at you because of something stupid, and you'd really appreciate it if he would just forgive you, and that if he does, you'll give him money." 

  Lily laughed outright. "I'm not going to give him _money!"_ she exclaimed. "He has a job, he doesn't _need _money!" 

  "Well, Sirius often needs persuading. And he likes presents."

  "Then _you _buy him a present. _I _am going to talk it out with him. Or try to." She stood up. "Now, where is he?"

  "I think he's in the dining room," James told her. "Oh, and he brought that Hestia chick," he added casually. 

  Lily almost dropped her drink. "He did?" 

  "Yeah. She's very adamant about them just being friends, though." 

  "Well, that's something, at least," Lily said. 

  "I guess. Remus is with them, so he can help you out. Probably."

 "Something else to drink, Hestia?" Sirius asked, stopping at the mini bar that was set up in the dining room and motioning at the various bottles. 

 Hestia smiled dimly and raised her full glass of white wine. "I'm good, thank you," she said pleasantly. "This is probably my last drink, in fact." 

 "Oh, but we've only been here an hour," Sirius frowned. 

 "Yes, and in that hour, you've gotten me five drinks," Hestia reminded him gently. "But," she added, turning at Remus, who was standing next to her, looking into his own glass, "I'm sure Remus here would like something to drink."

  Sirius glanced carelessly at his friend. "Remus has hands," Sirius said dismissively. "He can get it himself." 

 A flicker of a grin played across Remus's face. "That's great, Sirius, thank you," he said in a sardonic but good-natured manner. 

 "Not a problem," Sirius replied, lifting his own drink to his lips and casting a cursory glance around the room. His eyes stopped suddenly and he lowered his cup disgustedly. "Oh, fabulous," he muttered out of the corner of his mouth and turning around as though to hide himself. 

 "What?" Hestia asked, looking around curiously. 

 "_Lily_," Sirius said derisively. "Moony, did you call her here?"

 "Sirius, I've been following you around this whole time, and you've been avoiding Lily. When would I have talked to her?"

 "You're a slippery fellow," Sirius said. "I'm sure you would've found a way."

 Remus smirked as Lily approached them, smiling cautiously. "Hi, Remus," she said breathlessly. "It's good to see you." 

  "Hullo, Lily," Remus replied. "You look lovely tonight."

  Lily smiled. "Thank you. You don't look too bad yourself." She turned her attention to Hestia, who was looking quite uncomfortable. "You must be Hestia." She extended her hand for Hestia to shake, which she did. "Hi, I'm Lily Evans." 

  "The girlfriend, right?" Hestia asked. "James's girlfriend?" 

  "Yeah, that's my other name," Lily responded dryly. 

  Hestia laughed. "It's just…there are so many people I've never met here! It's hard to keep everyone straight, is all. I didn't mean that you were, like, only identifiable by your boyfriend or whatever." 

  "Yes, James's parents do delight in throwing this massive parties. I've never been to one of their dinners that doesn't also include at least fifty people I've never met. It's horribly intimidating at first, but you get used to it." Lily smiled and looked past Hestia to where Sirius was standing, stock still, by the bar, hoping she wouldn't see him. "And Sirius, it's nice to finally see you." 

 "Wish I could say the same for you," Sirius mumbled. 

 Lily's face darkened. "Sirius, I need to talk to you." She turned back to Remus. "Alone, if you wouldn't mind, Remus?"

 "Oh, sure," Remus replied, touching Hestia's arm, then drawing his hand away quickly, blushing a little. "Hestia, why don't we go, er, over…let's just go away." 

 "Of course," Hestia said, cottoning on. "Lily it was nice meeting you." 

 "And you." 

 Hestia followed Remus out of the dining room, leaving Lily and Sirius alone by the bar where he was pushing stirring straws into each other to form a very long Mega Stirring Straw or something. "Sirius," Lily said. 

 "Wench," Sirius returned. 

 "You're being catty and childish," she chided, leaning against the wall nearest the bar and casting him a pleading look. 

 "Well, you're being unnecessarily bitchy," he said stiffly, adding another red straw. "What you said was…well, it was really mean." 

 Lily bit her lip. "I've tried apologizing several times, Sirius, but you won't let me." 

 "What you said," Sirius repeated, keeping his eyes on his straws, "was unapologizable. Or…wait, that's not the word I meant. What's the word I meant?" 

 "'Unforgivable'."

 "That's the one." He almost smiled, but caught himself. "That doesn't mean we're friends," he added hastily. "Just because you're like a sodding walking dictionary doesn't mean I forgive you or whatever." 

 There was a stilted silence then. 

 Lily tried again. "Hestia seems nice," she said softly. "She's really pretty, too. Like you said." 

 "Don't bring Hestia into this," Sirius said sharply. 

 "I'm not bringing her _into _anything," Lily contradicted. "I was just telling you what I thought." 

  "I don't care what you think," Sirius told her stoically. 

  Lily nodded slowly and rested her head against the wall. "Okay, what do you want me to do?" she asked. 

 "Right now? I really want you to go away." 

 "Sirius, you're being ridiculous!" Lily exclaimed, emitting a frustrated sort of laugh. "I'm trying to say I'm sorry, that I didn't mean it, and you're just brushing me off! What can I do to make it better?" 

 Sirius looked over his straw tower at her, one eyebrow raised. "I don't want your apologies," he said evenly. 

  "Okay, so what _do _you want?" 

  He paused, his finger resting on top of the very tip of the stack of straws. "I don't know," he finally admitted. He hesitated. "Money?" he suggested. 

  "No." 

  "Okay." Sirius set down the red straws on the bar and began to fix himself a 7 & 7. "Here's the deal." 

 Lily giggled. 

 Sirius looked up from his glass, his eyebrow raised again, quizzically this time. "Yes?" he asked primly. 

 "I'm sorry," Lily apologized quickly, "it's just…you sounded sort of…you know. Mob-bossy." 

 Sirius considered her, standing stock still for about thirty seconds straight. "Right," he said. "Moving swiftly on. The thing is…I really kinda like Hestia. A lot. She's different than the types of girls that I usually date. And…I wanna make things work between her and me." Something seemed to hit him because he abruptly stopped mixing his drink and turned more towards Lily. He was even starting to gesticulate wildly, which Lily knew he did when he felt strongly about his topic. "See, everyone's been telling me since I was fifteen that I need to start looking to settle down with a nice girl, get a house, a good job." 

 "Who told you that you needed to settle down at fifteen?" Lily inquired incredulously. 

 "Well, my parents, actually," he said. "Who, incidentally, are sadistic fiends. Okay, bad example. But still. Especially now that you and James are getting married, people are _always _telling me that I need to get with the girl, sign the lease, get those paychecks. Lily, I've got the house. I've got the job. I just need the girl so people will get off my _back _already. And then I met Hestia, and I just…" He bit his lip and glanced across the room, smiling a little. "I felt like I could stop looking, you know? And I wanted to tell everyone, and…'cause it's really important to me. And then you go off and make _fun _of it." Sirius turned his attention back to her, those blue eyes of his boring into hers. "That sucked."

 Lily moistened her lips. "I know," she told him softly. 

 "I mean, seriously. It _really _sucked." He seemed intent to get this point across. 

 "I know," Lily repeated. "And I'm really, really sorry." 

 "And to cap it all off," Sirius continued, "she doesn't care." He smiled dimly and turned back to his drink. "She doesn't know me well enough to know that I don't usually act like this. Around girls. Around anyone, really." 

 "Like what?" 

 He shrugged listlessly. "I dunno how to explain it. I mean, God, I don't even know her, Lily. I've never even _kissed _her and I'm all…I don't know. I really don't know what's so different about her, but whatever it is…" He trailed off and laughed nervously, blushing. "Swear to God, you tell anyone this, I will _so_ be mad at you again. Worse this time." 

 Lily smiled. "Okay," she said.

 "So, what's the deal with Sirius and Lily?" Hestia asked, leaning up against James's mother's black grand piano. "I mean, admittedly, I don't know either of them that well, but…it doesn't seem like Sirius, at least, to be so angry. Especially at his best friend's fiancée." 

 "I can't believe he didn't tell you," Remus said, looking down at his shoes, suddenly self-conscious. "He's been ranting about it to anyone who will listen, lately. Um, Lily said—" He broke off, suddenly realizing exactly why Sirius hadn't told Hestia why he was angry at Lily. "Um," he said, trying to think of a form of the truth that wouldn't tip her off, lest Sirius find out and be extraordinarily pissed at Remus. "Um, they sort of got into a row about his, um, dating habits. S-sort of."

 "What does what Sirius do with girls have to do with her, though?" 

 "They used to go out," Remus blurted out, without thinking. 

  Hestia's eyes widened in surprise. _"Really?" _she said, her interest greatly piqued now. 

  "Oh, yeah," Remus told he, laughing out of sheer humiliation. "Love of Sirius's life, Lily was. They went out for two and a half years before Lily cheated on him with James." 

  Hestia put a hand to her mouth. _"No," _she gasped dramatically. "She doesn't seem like the type…and James! He and Sirius seem to be such good friends! You would think that something like that would _surely _destroy a friendship!" 

  "You would think, huh?" Remus said, wondering exactly how things like this always happened when Hestia was around. He always talked _way _too much when he was with her, and came across probably extremely stupid. 

  "Yes! I mean, the love of his life ran away with his best friend, and now they're getting _married? _That would kill a normal person!" 

  "Sirius isn't normal," Remus told her honestly. "And there was minimal running involved, considering we were at boarding school at the time. And, you know, there's no running in the halls there." _'There's no running in the halls there'?! _Remus squinted his eyes shut in embarrassment. "Anyway, Sirius was really upset about it at first, but they sat down and talked it out one night—it took all night, that conversation—and from what I understand, there were tears shed by all. It took some time—about a year, actually—but Sirius eventually accepted it and moved on. Lily still gets jealous sometimes, though. I think she might feel like Sirius should always feel that way about her, and when she sees that he doesn't, she gets upset." 

  "That's kind of unfair of her, isn't it?" Hestia said. 

  "One of the main reasons her and James fight, that is."

  "I would hope so!" Hestia exclaimed. "In fact, with situations like that, I'm shocked they've lasted this long!" 

  "Who?" 

  "James and Lily!" 

  "Oh, well, they're both too neurotic for anyone else," Remus said. "We always say that they are the only two people in the world who can stand one another." 

A/N: Wow, that certainly took a long time. I can only hope that it was worth it, and that you still like it and are still holding on to it or whatever, even in spite of my lack of updates. It's difficult to put up with me (and to remember what happens from chapter-to-chapter; I know—I'm thinking of putting in a little 'previously on…' notice at the beginning of each chapter, wouldn't that be nice? ;), I totally know. I'm sorry. =) 

**Next time _(which won't be a month from now, all fingers crossed)_**: Adeline makes her return, Lily goes Shopping, and Valentine's Day hits. Make of that what you will. =) 

Review now, please!! 


	12. Roses Are Red, Violets Are Blue

Tripping Down the Aisle 

Chapter Twelve: Roses Are Red, Violets Are Blue…

///

Sunday, 14 February Four months, ten days 

 "I don't think I like Valentine's Day very much," Sirius commented lightly, licking the whipped cream off the top of his chocolate-vanilla-raspberry swirl ice-cream cone. 

 It was a remarkably warm, sunny day for February, and Sirius, Remus, and Peter had decided to take advantage of it with a trip to Diagon Alley's Florean Fortescue's. They hadn't been in quite a long time, and Sirius was growing restless with a lack of the kind of sugar that could only be obtained from one of Fortescue's cones. 

 Peter glanced at him over his own cone, which was peach-marshmallow flavored. "Why?" 

 Sirius shrugged. "I don't know," he said thoughtfully. "It just seems like a sort of non-holiday, doesn't it? There are no presents exchanged, no parades, no anything. There's not even any purpose." 

  "Sure there is," Remus told him, stirring his white chocolate peppermint milkshake with his straw before taking a sip. "It's, like, a day that was set aside just so that guys could tell their girlfriends or potential girlfriends that they love them without feeling like total saps." 

 Peter frowned, scooping a mini-marshmallow out of his ice cream with his finger. "That's kinda stupid." 

 Sirius turned to his other friend. "Do share, Peter," he ordered pleasantly as he continued make his way through his ice cream. 

  "Well, think of it this way," Peter said, leaning forward in his chair to get a napkin from the bright orange dispenser in the middle of the table. "The whole holiday--"

 "Or lack thereof," Sirius interrupted promptly.

 "Or lack thereof," Peter agreed, "sorta makes you feel obligated to say you love her or whatever, doesn't it? It makes you feel like you have to buy candy and candles and all that other sappy stuff. I think Valentine's Day was invented to make men feel uncomfortable."

 "Out of the mouths of lonely single men," Sirius smiled. 

 Peter huffed. "Being single is a _choice_," he insisted. "And besides, I just had a date the other day."

 Remus widened his eyes in fake surprise. "Oh, is _that _why you missed James's birthday party? You had a _date?"_

"A meeting with his hos," Sirius said knowledgably, nodding to Remus. 

 Peter instantly looked uncomfortable. "I told you," he mumbled. "I had a prior obligation that I absolutely couldn't get out of."

 "Right, whatever," Sirius responded, immediately disinterested in the topic. "Anyway, Moony, I was hoping that Hestia might have mentioned me at James's birthday party, when I was talking to Lily? I keep meaning to ask you, but I just forget."

 Remus instantly grew uncomfortable. "We did discuss you," he said carefully, 

 Sirius watched his friend eagerly. "Yeah? And?"

 Remus didn't know whether to tell him or not. Where Hestia was concerned, it was especially difficult to predict how Sirius would react to something. Moreover, now that he was all friendly with Lily again, he might tell her that Remus was making up his own soap opera starring them. And Lily might get Very Angry. She might start throwing things like she did when she and James had the Very Major Fight a couple years back. 

 But even thinking about that fight made everyone uncomfortable, so Remus quickly muttered to Sirius, "Nothing, really." 

 _"Nothing, really?" _Sirius mocked. "Come on, she must've said something. Is she slowly feeling the power of my sex aura?" 

 "What fresh hell?" Peter burst out, breaking out in what could only be described as giggles. "Your _sex aura?" _

 Sirius tossed his head arrogantly. "You may not have noticed this, Wormtail, because you have known me since before I blossomed into a sexual beast"—Peter emitted a string of very strangled laughs that actually sounded as though he were choking on a particularly large marshmallow—"but I radiate a sort of energy that makes girls want to throw their knickers at me. It's kinda like Mick Jagger, you know?" 

 Remus promptly dropped his milkshake and Peter started having a sort of laughing fit, complete with spasms. 

 "Are you really comparing yourself to _Mick Jagger?" _Remus asked incredulously, attempting to salvage his drink but only ending up with sticky hands.

 "The likeness is uncanny," Sirius told them, his face astoundingly straight. "I mean, Mick isn't getting any younger, but women keep throwing themselves at him. I imagine that, like, twenty years in the future he's going to have about twelve kids all by different models." 

  "And you're going to be the same way?"

 "Oh, God, no," Sirius responded, wrinkling his nose. "Kids? Ew. I can't even take care of myself. And there's no way a model could. I mean, she'd have them only drinking Evian and eating like rabbits. The kid would be undernourished. It doesn't even exist and I feel sorry for it." 

////

 "I could cry," Mrs. Evans proclaimed, and as her daughter glanced away from the car window to look at her, she noticed that her mother's eyes did look a bit watery. "Taking my daughter shopping for her wedding dress…" 

 "Not _shopping," _Lily was only too quick to correct her. "We're _looking. _I just want to get an idea of what I want." She drew in a breath. "The wedding is getting ridiculously close and I don't want to be rifling through racks of pretty much identical dresses the day before the wedding and sobbing hysterically because I don't have a clue as to what I want." 

 Mrs. Evans looked away from the road for a second to look at her daughter, smiling. "Aren't you just a little excited, though?" she asked, turning her attention back to the red car in front of her.

 "Oh, I'm having difficulty breathing," Lily confirmed.

 "I just don't know why you're doing this on Valentine's Day. Shouldn't you be spending time with James, dear?" 

 "Valentine's Day is a day for weddings," Lily told her, shifting in her seat to look around the car in front of them to view the line of shops on this street. "People get married on Valentine's Day. They're not shopping for wedding dresses. And, since it's Valentine's Day, that horrible planner of ours has a wedding today, so she can't come along." She grinned at her mother. "_That _is why I picked today. And James has a little paperwork he has to catch up on."  

 Mrs. Evans suddenly gasped. "Today is your anniversary, isn't it?!" 

 Lily scrunched up her nose. "Sort of," she admitted. "Today is the fourth anniversary of our first date thing…but the day we actually got together was, like, two days after that. So our anniversary is whenever we have time to celebrate it. Which is looking to be, like, three years from now." 

 "So, you've both been busy?"

 "_Insanely _busy," Lily agreed, sighing. "Work has been absolutely mad. I haven't been home any earlier than ten all week, and James didn't even come home yesterday until three in the morning."

 Her mother laughed a little and looked out her window. 

 Lily blinked, confused at that sudden laugh. Her lack of sleep wasn't really funny to her, but maybe it was to other people. "Something funny?"

 "Oh, you just…" Mrs. Evans looked away from the window and smiled at her daughter. 

 "What?"

 "You sounded very grown-up, just then."

 Lily grinned and glanced down at her hands. "It's weird, isn't it?"

////

  Peter apprehensively approached the Hog's Head later that day wearing his darkest set of robes and a cloak with a hood. The owl had simply said to report to the pub at sunset and to bring no one with him. When he'd finished reading it, the letter tore itself into lots of tiny pieces, which were then sucked into his kitchen table, which was interesting to him. Peter had seen many hundreds of letters self-destruct in many hundreds of different ways (he had even invented a few with his friends when he was in school—invisibility spells on letters that were activated and deactivated by breathing on them, letters zipping around a house until they found the nearest fire to throw themselves in and so on), but that one was new to him. 

  The littlest things fascinated Peter.

  Maybe following confidential instructions was one of them. 

  He certainly did feel a tiny bit like James Bond. 

  _That _was exciting. 

  Not so exciting was the fact that his insides felt like they could just, like, pop out through his mouth any second now. He had heard stories of what happened to people when they did what he was about to do, and none of them ended very well. At least, they didn't end in a way that Peter considered good. 

 Peter willed himself to open the door to the pub, but it took an entire minute and a half before he could actually do it. 

 He stepped into the pub, lowering his hood as he did so. Peter tried to keep his face blank, tried not to let the terror show in his eyes. He scanned the room, looking for someone who looked…Death Eater-y. What do Death Eaters look like when they're just out for a drink? Peter didn't know; he didn't drink much, and even when he did, he certainly didn't do it in the company of Voldemort's minions. 

 Seeing no one looking particularly Death Eater-ish and deciding that his new bosses or whatever he was supposed to call them were running a tad late, Peter sidled up to the bar. His mouth had gone dry, and a drink of any sort was sounding really good right now. 

 Peter hoisted himself onto one of the seven stools lining the bar and waited for the bartender to take his order. He drummed his fingers on the soft, felt-like surface of the bar and noted with distaste the unpolished appearance his nails had taken on. They had been chewed to the quick, and he had hangnails on every finger, some of them bleeding. And he couldn't even remember biting them. 

 Strange.

 "You Pettigrew?" 

 Peter nearly fell out of his seat at the sound of the voice. He hadn't been expecting it, and he had been half-hoping that the voice would never come, that he had just been making up this whole meeting in his warped mind. 

 Because, you know, therapy could cure whatever insanity had taken residence in his head. 

 Therapy couldn't help being a minion. 

 Peter thought about this. It probably could, actually. It could be like one of those Alcoholics Anonymous things. Death Eaters Anonymous. You could go to meetings and those meetings could cure you of your brainwashed…ness. And then they could probably Memory Charm you into forgetting every terrible thing you'd ever done as a minion. 

 Minions Anonymous had a nicer ring to it, actually.

 Okay, it would be called Minions Anonymous. MA. 

 The voice, whoever it was (Peter hadn't yet turned around to see), poked him roughly right in between his shoulder blades. "Are you Pettigrew?" the voice repeated impatiently. 

 Peter turned around and stared into a face mostly obscured by a hood, but Peter could still see those eyes.

 He would be able to recognize those eyes from miles away.

 Those were Sirius's eyes.

 But of course, it wasn't Sirius under that hood.

 So this was Regulus.

 Peter gulped, his throat feeling both dry and scratchy now. "Yeah," he rasped. He cleared his throat. "Yeah, I'm Pettigrew."

////

 "Do you ever even go home?" Gideon Prewett asked, leaning over the wall of Sirius's cubicle so that he was looking down into James's. 

 "Not lately, thanks for asking," James muttered gruffly, deep in concentration. He refilled his best eagle feather quill with black ink and scribbled his signature almost illegibly on the dotted line to finish the report. "Besides, I could ask you the same thing. You're here almost as often as I am."

 "Ah, but I don't have a fiancé to cater to."

 James looked up darkly from the new form he had to fill out. "Lily doesn't need 'catering to'," he told Prewett matter-of-factly, adjusting his glasses and returning to the paper. 

 "Valentine's Day, though," Prewett commented airily.  

 "What of it?" James grumbled, scrawling the date at the top of the form. 

 "'What of it?'" Prewett repeated, smirking. "Potter, this day is, like, the single most romantic day of the year. Don't you think she'll be a little miffed if you're not there to spend it with her?"

 "Valentine's Day is a non-holiday," James said promptly. "And Lily's out shopping with her mother, so no worries there. Besides, I bought her lingerie yesterday, so we're already done with our romantic-holiday stuff." He paused, blushing, as realized what he had said. "I mean, I bought her chocolates. Chocolates. Loves her chocolates, Lily does."

 While the whole Quidditch match experience had certainly lessened James's dislike for Gideon Prewett, he was still firmly of the belief that Prewett desperately wanted to play Naughty Stewardess-type games with Lily. And he didn't want to give Prewett any ideas for _new _fantasies. 

 Prewett kept that obnoxious smirk on his face. "Oh, yeah," he said. "Chocolates."

 "Right," James said. "Chocolates. Lots and…lots of chocolates."

 "Good chocolates?"

 "Of course. Naturally. Only the, er, best for Lily." 

 "Like, the edible-underwear type of chocolates?" Prewett slipped in, smirking still.

 Oh, well that was just perfect, James thought. Prewett was getting bolder; he actually had the audacity to discuss his fantasies about James's girlfriend with him. It was really quite disgusting.

 "No," James protested. "I respect Lily more than to buy her underwear that she can't wear on warm days." He tossed his head pompously. "I bought her a black lace negligee." 

////

 After the ice cream, Remus had said his good-byes to his friends and ducked inside his favorite bookshop. It isn't Flourish and Blott's, because that has almost always been too brightly lit and crowded and commercial for him. No, Remus likes Tomes, which is quite a bit down the road from the most populated areas of Diagon Alley. The store is remarkably isolated for Diagon Alley, and there are almost never more than ten people inside, and that's why Remus likes it so much. The store has exactly four windows in its two stories, and if you stand in front of the light that streams in from them, you can very clearly see little particles of dust dancing around in it. 

 The first floor is the entrance, where most if not all of the newest books are located. There's the checkout counter and a few shelves of 'bestsellers'. You're kind of obligated to put the quotations around 'bestsellers' because it's well known (well, amongst the people who go there) that no one ever really buys the books. Tomes is a library of sorts, where people go to just read and wile the hours away on rainy days or days when you don't feel like doing anything but sitting and losing themselves and forgetting time and any ideas of life altogether.  

 On days like that, you may smile a quick hello to Maisey or Celia or Devon at the counter as you head directly for the small, spindly spiral staircase that leads up to the second floor. The steps are caked in dust and you leave footprints as you go up. Once safely upstairs, the scent of old books overwhelms, and it's nice.

   
 Remus loves it up there.

 He lingers at the Non-Fiction section for about fifteen minutes or so, but lately he's discovered that he's read absolutely everything that's of interest to him in that section. So he moves on to the Fiction section more readily than usual. The old (and new) Muggle literature fascinates him—Muggles may not be able to do magic, but they're much better at writing stories than most magical authors. 

 Today he had picked up 'Jane Eyre', and was about a hundred and fifty pages in when he decided he didn't like it very much. Jane was kind of whiny, and Mr. Rochester just seemed bored with the whole thing. In fact, his favorite character so far was the crazy wife in the attic. 

  "Oh, 'Jane Eyre'? It's horrible, don't bother with it." 

 Remus dropped the book in shock. "Hestia?" he stammered, looking up at her.

 She stood, grinning, in front of his chair, her purple cloak in her arms. She seemed genuinely pleased and a little surprised to see him. "Hi," she said. "I didn't know you knew Tomes." Hestia pointed her wand at an empty chair some six feet away and levitated it towards him, setting it down neatly next to his own armchair. Hestia settled herself into the chair, which was large, green, and velvety. 

 "I've been coming here since I was twelve," Remus told her, and was surprised to hear that he was actually speaking coherent English. He was quite proud of himself. "How do you know it?"

 "Oh," she responded, turning around in her chair to hang her cloak on the back of it, "a colleague of mine recommended it to me when I complained about how Flourish & Blott's only carried the in-demand stuff, not the really compelling, interesting things. However, they also didn't carry that drivel." She pointed absently to Remus's book. "Which I guess is a plus."

 "So you really didn't like it," Remus smiled.

 Hestia made a face. "My mother made me read that book when I was, oh, eleven or so. Bored. Me. To. Pieces." She rolled her eyes as if to further the point.

 Remus set the book down. "I didn't really like it either," he admitted.

 Hestia's face instantly brightened. "You _didn't?!" _she said, emphatically happy. 

 "No."

 She laughed excitedly. "You probably think this reaction is so weird, but I've never met anyone who didn't like 'Jane Eyre' before! As soon as I'd mention how much I hated it, someone would say, '_Why?! _'Jane Eyre' is one of the first pieces of literature to portray women in a positive light blah, blah, blah.'" She rolled her eyes again. "The girl was annoyed about a haircut, okay? That's kind of shallow. If she were really feminist, she should've been, like, embracing the butchness of her haircut and be all, 'If a man can keep his hair like this, so can I!'" Hestia paused. "That did happen, right?" she clarified. "She did complain about her haircut, right?"

 "Yes," Remus said, rather entertained by this spiel.

 "Good," Hestia replied, satisfied. "My memory _is _just as good as I thought it was." She pushed a piece of hair behind her ear. 

 There was silence.

 Naturally, she broke it.

 "So, what's a bloke like you doing all alone in a bookshop on Valentine's Day?" Hestia asked, leaning on her arm that was resting on the armrest. 

 "Not alone," Remus responded plaintively. "You're around, aren't you?" He regretted saying it almost as soon as the words left his mouth. That was a little more…bold than he usually liked to be. 

 Hestia, however, didn't seem to mind in the slightest. She smiled softly. "Yes," she said lightly. "I am, aren't I?" 

 She continued to smile at him, and he really had no choice but to smile back. 

 Before he remembered Sirius.

 "Sirius," he blurted out.

 Hestia waited for him to finish what she surely thought was the beginning of a sentence. "Yes?" she pressed when he didn't. "Sirius what?"

 "He, ah," Remus stalled, searching for something witty and cool that Sirius had said or done lately. "He, ah, hates Valentine's Day."

 Hestia sighed. "Yes, he would be. I suppose he and Lily broke up on Valentine's Day," she said mournfully. "Didn't you say James and Lily's anniversary was today?"

 "What?" Remus said, confused. "Sirius and Lily—" But then, of course, he remembered.

 The Lie.

 The big, scary Lie.

 And he winced, because he'd just have to continue this lie for about a million years because he'd never be able to tell Hestia, 'Yeah, look, I just made up that thing about Sirius and Lily going out because he's, like, crazy about you and I couldn't tell you so because then you'd get a restraining order and that would be bad for him. And plus I tend to babble when you're around and I haven't a clue why, so that definitely factored into it. But, really, if you get to know me, I'm really a nice guy' because…well, he just couldn't. 

 "Oh, ah," he mumbled. "Their anniversary…yeah. Um, Sirius is actually at home right now. I think he mentioned something about either slitting his wrists or drinking a bottle of wine*."

 "I hope he chose the wine," Hestia said.

 "Oh, he always does," Remus assured her. 

////

A/N: Yes! I finally finished it! It's 11:00 at night, I've been writing on this for four hours, so I'm very excited about this. 

*I stole this line from "The Heartbreak" episode of "The O.C.", which is my favorite television show _ever. _It seems stupid from the commercials, but if you watch it, it's _awesome. _Sorry. Not here for "O.C." plugging. I apologize.

Um, yeah, and I know I said Adeline was coming back this chappie. I lied. Sorry. =) I just couldn't think of a way to fit her in. Admittedly, I could have put her in the scene where Lily and her mother were shopping for her wedding dress (you see the actual wedding dress quite soon), but I'd imagine that Lily would try to find _some _way to avoid that lovely experience. So I left her out this time. My apologies. Again. 

Oh, and if you actually liked _Jane Eyre _and are mad at the comments above….well, sorry. =) I read that book when I was eleven because this boy in my class who I was really competitive with was going to read it, and I said I would read it first and he said, nu-uh, I will, and it went on like that for about a month. I finished it first, but I hated it. So, yeah. I don't know what the point of that story was. It's (quasi) late. I'm tired. That's no excuse…

….

I can't think of anything else to write, prolly because I'm really tired, so I'm going to go to bed now. Review!


	13. Lazy Sundays

Tripping Down the Aisle 

Chapter Thirteen: Lazy Sundays 

///////

_Sunday, 4 March _

_Three months, twenty days_

//////

 Lazy Sundays were rare. 

 There was always work that needed to be done, people who needed to be seen, places that needed visiting, and for some reason, Sunday was always the only day those things would be done. So naturally, when there was a Sunday available for sitting around, the pounced on it.

 Today was the first lazy Sunday in months. 

 They were pouncing on it.

  In a sheerly lackadaisical manner, of course. 

  Lily was lying in bed, propped up against a stack of pillows, reading the _Sunday Prophet _and sipping a cup of tea. James was lying horizontally, his head resting on her stomach, doing a crossword puzzle in the laziest way possible: he had levitated the page so that it was floating directly above him, the puzzle side facing him. He wasn't actually writing the answers (that would really tire out his arm, raising it like that), but was telling his Quick Quotes Quill the answers and where to put them. The only downside to this otherwise brilliant procedure was that the ink often dripped down from the page, and James had to dodge it, lest it get in his eyes or on his nose or something. Luckily, Lily was immersed in a story about Azkaban security or else she would've noticed that there were several drops of black ink on her gray silk camisole. 

  "55 across is 'blasphemy'," James told the quill. As it skittered across the page, scribbling the answer, James said to his girlfriend, "Lily, I'm getting bored."

 "What do you want me to do about that?" she asked from behind her paper. 

 "I don't know," James replied. "Entertain me?" 

 "Finish your crossword," Lily suggested. 

 "I just did." 

 Lily lowered her paper in surprise and looked down at him. "You did?" she asked.

 He snatched the page out of the air and showed her. 

 "James, you've only been working that for fifteen minutes, and you've already finished it?"

 He shrugged. "Crosswords are easy. In fact, I think they actually insult my intelligence with their easiness." He tossed the page carelessly behind him, allowing it to flutter to the floor, and turned back to her, brightening as he thought of an idea. "Let's play word association!" 

 She sighed and set aside the paper. "I don't think Gideon should've taught you that game," she smiled. 

 "It's a good game," James insisted. "It teaches us about each other, you know?" He lifted his head from her stomach and sat up. 

 This amused Lily. "Really?"

 "Yes. Come on, let's play." 

 She laughed a little. "Are you five years old or something today?" 

 He frowned. "Did you seriously just say that?"

 Lily raised her eyebrows. "Did I accidentally touch a nerve?" she asked. 

 "Well, you just asked if I was five years old when we were sitting in bed, both in our underwear. It makes me nervous."

 Lily smiled and reached up to put her hand on the back of his neck. She applied pressure, effectively pulling him to her, at which time she kissed him. "I absolutely do not think of you as five years old at times like these," she told him. 

 James smiled and kissed her again. "That's good."  

 "Do you still want to play word association?" she queried softly, threading her fingers through his very tangled hair, which she knew was going to require some very quick movements and possibly scissors to get out of later. 

  James deftly kicked the pillow separating the two of them out of the way and positioned himself on top of her. "Not so much," he replied. A thought occurred to him as he was kissing her, and it was that thought that caused him to pull away abruptly. "Was that your intention all along, you tart? To distract me from word association?"

  Lily grinned. "It's possible." She lifted her head to meet his mouth again. "Do you care?"

  "Not even a little bit, surprisingly."

**

 "So, I think I'm going to ask Hestia out again."

 Remus dropped the bag of wizarding crackers he had been looking at. As he scrambled to pick them up, he said, "You are?" 

 Sirius idly picked up a silver party hat and held it up so as to smooth his windswept hair. "Well, we've been getting along really well lately, and it's been a really long time since I asked her last." He shrugged and set down the hat. "Party hats are lame, right?"

 Sirius was in charge of James's bachelor party, whether James liked it or not, and he was very much behind on the party. He had no ideas whatsoever, except that there was to be much alcohol and even more strippers. So, on the first day available to him, he had decided to drag Remus with him to plan the party. Peter had been invited, of course, but had declined to come, citing a 'previous engagement' in his return owl. It was ridiculous that just when Sirius had all this free time on his hands, Peter had absolutely none. It was unfair. Sirius had _always _had a better social life than Peter. Even when they were eleven and therefore too young to even be thinking of having a social life. 

 Perhaps he had peaked at seventeen. 

 This thought horrified him, and he immediately discarded it and turned his concentration to Remus across the aisle from him.

 "I don't know," Remus responded, keeping his eyes on the rows and rows of miscellaneous party favors. "It's not like I go to that many parties." He cast a glance in his friend's direction. "_People like me_ aren't exactly at the top of anyone's invite list." It was clear to Sirius that when he said 'people like me' he meant the whole werewolf thing.

 Sirius shrugged again and said, "Anyway, about Hestia." 

 "Yes, what about her?" Remus asked. 

 "Has she mentioned anyone else?" Sirius inquired, leaning against the displays to face Remus, who had his back to him. "Is she seeing anyone?"

 "Why are you asking me?" Remus wanted to know. He seemed intent on the crackers he was studying. 

 "Well, you two are all friendly—which I think is great," Sirius said quickly. "Because, you know, it works out for me. She tells you stuff, you report it back to me. It's great. It's a system. A cycle." 

 Remus sighed. "From what I know, she's not seeing anyone," he said heavily. "She isn't seeing anyone, she lives in the same place, and has the same job. She likes chips but not fish. She likes white wine but hates red. She likes bacon but not eggs." 

 "Salt but not pepper?"

 Remus glanced at Sirius again. "Pepper but not salt, actually." 

 Sirius grinned. "That is insane," he said happily. 

 Remus shrugged, turning back to his crackers. "Not really. I don't like salt much, come to that." 

 "Not about the salt, you twat. How you pick up on things like that! How do you even do that, Moony?" 

 "I actually listen to what she's saying because I am not interested in how many more drinks it'll take to get her properly drunk," Remus replied absently. He turned quickly to Sirius once he realized what he had said and rectified, "Not that I assume that's what you'd do if you were on a date with her." 

 Sirius brushed this off. "Yeah, whatever. Do you think she'd go out with me, though?" 

 Remus bit his lip. He didn't really think so, but he couldn't just _say _that. Sirius would go feeling all sorry for himself. Then, naturally, he'd go drown his sorrows in a bottle of vodka or something, and Remus couldn't have Sirius getting alcohol poisoning again. Partly because it was expensive to check him into the hospital, partly because he never really could get the vomit stains out of his carpet, and partly because it had been right scary when it happened the first time. "I don't know," he said idly to compromise. 

 "You don't _know_?" Sirius repeated. "You know about the whole freakish salt-and-pepper thing but you don't know whether or not she feels less than amicable towards me?" 

 "I'm sure she feels amicable towards you," Remus assured him. "At the very least." 

 Sirius threw him a very cross look. "That's a figure of speech, Moony," he said dimly. 

 Remus was surprised. "It is?" He had never heard anyone use the phrase 'feel less than amicable' before now, and he considered himself fairly well read. This disheartened him a little. 

 "Well, not really," Sirius admitted. "But…you're having dinner with her tonight, right?"

 "Why would you assume that?" 

 "You told me," Sirius reminded him, raising an eyebrow. "You do that on occasion." 

 Remus shook his head. "Right. I forgot." 

 Sirius regarded him curiously. "Um, sure. Anyway, I'm thinking you could maybe insert me—in a favorable manner, of course—into your conversations. See how that goes over."

 Remus nodded slowly. "Okay." 

 "Okay? Awesome." Sirius glanced around the store. "This place doesn't have anything fit for a swinging bachelor party. Let's go somewhere else, yeah?" 

**

 Peter was to meet Regulus again at another dim, dank bar, this time in Dorchester. He had Apparated over here about fifteen minutes ago, and it was getting difficult to resist the allure of a nice, tall glass of firewhiskey. He thought that Death Eaters certainly didn't care much for punctuality. Then it dawned on him that this was probably a defense tactic of some sort. Like, maybe they were always late just to throw people off. You would be expecting a dark, cloaked figure to pop out at you at exactly 12:00, but when they came at 12:48, you were totally unprepared for it. And therefore, easier to kill.

Peter wondered if he was going to have to come up with stuff like that when he became One with the Evil.

He'd never been good with the plans. He was better at, you know, being the lookout. 

Peter was an awesome lookout.

He wondered if that would come in handy with the whole Bringer of Evil position he was about to take. 

It probably would, he reasoned to himself. Even evil overlords needed lookouts. 

Peter picked up the red paper napkin in front of him and began to twist it, starting at the outer corner and moving inward. He was looking out the corner of his eyes for any sign at all of Sirius's brother as he methodically turned the napkin into a rope. He didn't see anyone, and while he fully supported his whole defensive (or was it offensive? He wasn't good with sports, either) tactic theory, Peter was beginning to think that maybe this was a test. Maybe the Death Eaters wanted to see what he would do in the face of…abandonment. 

Peter felt self-conscious and nervous. Was he supposed to go kill someone or something?

He'd never killed anyone before. He wasn't sure he knew how.

But then what if Regulus came in and saw he'd killed the whole pub and got mad because the whole pub was full of Death Eaters and they were observing what kind of person he was by himself? 

But then Peter remembered that this was real life, and that would never happen, because he could not take on a pub full of Death Eaters. He probably couldn't even take on one Death Eater.

He sighed and put his chin in his hand. Maybe just a _small _firewhiskey. Peter could hold his liquor. Sirius always said that was one of his best qualities. 

Peter signaled the waitress.

**

 James yawned and turned the page in his book. He was reading _A Complete Guide to Wooing Witches _by some Australian wizard. Had this book existed when he was seventeen, it would have helped him out with Lily quite a bit more than Remus had, but that was neither here nor there. The book interested him, though, because the guy who wrote it reminded James very much of himself. 

 He had an idea. "Lily!" he called, lowering the book. 

 "What?" she yelled back. She was in their bedroom, writing a letter to her old friend Charlotte, inviting her personally to the wedding and basically telling Charlotte all about her life since they had last seen each other, which was a year ago. Charlotte lived in France with a boyfriend, but they traveled a lot, as Charlotte's boyfriend was mildly famous. There was no telling where they would be at any given time. Lily was being very girly about this letter. The last James had seen of it, the letter was six pages long. That was when he had decided to go read his book.

 "D'you think I could write a book?"

 Lily paused. "Whatever would you write a book about?"

 She emerged suddenly from the hallway and stood next to the arm of the couch he was lying on. She began to play with his hair as he formulated a response.

 "I have had many exciting experiences in my life, Lily," James told her. "I could write a chronicle of all the pranks we ever played on Snape. Or on anyone. That would be entertaining." He paused and angled his head to look up at her. "You like my prank stories."

 Lily smiled. "Your prank stories are nice, love. Except when they involve the humiliation and possible injury of an innocent." 

 "Nice? Just nice? My prank stories are _brilliant_, Lily. But you know what would make for good reading?" James's eyes were wide and he sat up abruptly, grinning ridiculously. "I could publish my Stalking Lily Evans journals!" 

 She burst into laughter. "You _cannot _publish those journals!" she exclaimed, giggling.

 "Why not?! Lily, those journals could make me rich!" 

 "James, honey, you _are _rich." 

 "You called me honey," James immediately said, grinning. 

 She smiled. "Artistic license." She paused. 

 "What?" he demanded. "What are you thinking? You're thinking something. You've got the thinking face." 

 "I suppose it wouldn't be _that _bad," she said slowly.

 James stared at her. "Are you seriously saying that?" 

 "Well, it could be interesting," Lily said, turning away from the couch and heading down the hallway. James got up and followed. "I mean, it could be viewed as…a 'what not to do' type guide. Or a look inside the mind of seriously disturbed teenage boy." She flashed him a smile. "And an incredibly stubborn girl." 

 "Where are you going?" he asked her as she turned into one of the other two bedrooms in the house. 

 "Well, this is where the diaries are, aren't they?" 

 "Not diaries," James quickly corrected. "They are journals." 

 Lily tossed her hair. "Whatever. This is where they are, right?" She went to the closet and magicked herself a footstool from across the room. "We could look over them tonight, see what you'd want in and what I definitely wouldn't want in." She stepped onto the stool and ran her fingers over the row of boxes on the top shelf and pulled down the one labeled 'James's school stuff'. "In here, right?"

 "Probably," he replied, a little dazed. "What wouldn't you want me to keep in there?"

 She set the box on the guest bed, lifted the lid, and sat down cross-legged in front of it. "I don't really know," she admitted. "I haven't read them since…I don't know. I think since that time we broke up after Christmas that one year, remember?"

 "Oh, yeah," James said wryly. "When you threatened to burn them. That was fun."

 She grinned. "You made me very angry. Anyway, I don't know. Maybe there's nothing." She shrugged. "Come on, help me look." 

 James joined her on the bed and they rifled through what seemed like several thousand pieces of paper (the box never filled) before James lifted the book. 

 He sighed. "Memories." 

 Lily smiled. "Read something." 

 James opened the book and said, "Why not the first entry?" He cleared his throat importantly and began: 

 _"Monday, 20 November_

_ Saw Subject at breakfast. Said, "Hi."_

_She glared at me over her toast and said, "Potter, don't you have somewhere to be?"_

_I smiled in that very attractive way that, it has to be said, only I can smile, and replied (v. suavely, if I do say so myself), "Where else would I want to be than right here?" _

Subject rolled her eyes, bit into her toast, and responded coldly, "Well, I rather thought you'd be polishing your broom or admiring yourself in the mirror or, I don't know, hexing someone because they looked at you for too long."

_Actually, I did do that this morning. Hex someone, that is._

_It was a Slytherin, and I swear he sneered at me. _

_He'll be out of the hospital wing in a few days; I don't see what the big deal is._

_I didn't say that, though. I said, "No. I thought I'd maybe ask you out?" _

_Subject started to laugh. "Go play with your friends, Potter," she said._

_I really think she's warming up to me."_

Lily grinned. "Ah, now those were some good times."

**

 "So, Remus Lupin," Hestia said as they walked along the dusty road leading up to her house, "what did you want to be when you grew up? You know, when you were a kid?"  
  


 Remus paused. "Really?"

 "Yeah."

 He sighed. "I wanted to be anything but a werewolf," he replied, shoving his hands in his pockets and looking down at his worn brown leather shoes. "I thought if I could be…you know, normal…I'd want to be Minister of Magic." He grinned. "But doesn't everyone?"

 She smiled back. "I used to want to be an acrobat. You know, like in circuses? I wanted to wear all the costumes and be able to fly. I thought that would be the neatest thing in the world, to just be float above the ground and weigh nothing and just…fly without wings." 

 "What happened to that?" 

 Hestia laughed. "I'm terrified of heights."

 That made Remus laugh. "You wanted to be a acrobat but you were scared of heights?" he repeated, chuckling good-naturedly. 

 "Well, one sort of came from the other," she explained. "I decided, when I was six, that in order to become an acrobat, I was going to have some practice. No circus was going to take an inexperienced performer. So I got up on my roof when no one was looking and I…I jumped." Hestia was getting nostalgic; you could see it in her eyes and the soft smile creeping across her lips. "Our house at the time was three stories high, this old Victorian thing, and my bedroom was in a tower. It was nighttime, and my whole family was asleep—or so I thought, you know. So I slipped out my window and climbed up to the top and just…jumped." 

 "What happened?" Remus asked.

 She grinned. "I bounced," she replied simply.

 "Your first signs of magic?" Remus guessed. 

 "None other than," Hestia responded proudly. "My father was on the porch, he saw the whole thing and nearly had a heart attack. I was still so scared of the heights, though. Even though I knew if I fell, I'd just bounce." 

 They walked in silence for a while, but it was a comfortable silence. Remus wondered if he should tell Hestia about Sirius's aspirations to ask her out, but they were at her house before he could. 

 "So," she said, smiling at him as she reached into her robe pocket for her key. "I'll see you later?" 

 Remus nodded. "Yeah." 

 She turned the key in the lock, and turned to smile at him one last time—but she gasped instead.

 "What?" 

 "You have a spider on your head," Hestia replied. "Here, let me get it." Remus sort of ducked his head and she stood on her tiptoes (even though he really wasn't that much taller than her; Remus was only 5'8") and brushed it off. "There," she said quietly. "Your hair is really soft, by the way." 

 Remus instinctively reached up to touch his hair. He'd never thought about it before. Did he have soft hair? For a guy, that is? He'd have to feel the hair of his friends to compare. "Thanks," he said. "I wash it." 

 She laughed. "You are so strange."

**

 Regulus Black finally showed up, about thirty minutes and two and a half firewhiskeys later. "Drinking, Pettigrew?" he asked jauntily, slipping into the seat in front of Peter. 

 "You were late," Peter replied flatly. "I was bored." 

 Alcohol made him bold.

 Regulus allowed a small smile. "So," he said quietly, leaning closer to Peter so as to make their conversation less likely to be overheard, "any information for us?" 

 Peter swallowed a little of his drink and set his glass back on the table as he tried to recall what was said at last week's meeting. "Nothing much," he said slowly.  "I brought—I brought some addresses, though," he remembered brightly, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a piece of parchment, folded over four times. "There's seven addresses on there." 

 Regulus frowned. "Addresses?" he hissed. 

 Peter faltered. "Yeah," he said, his voice quaking. "I—I thought if you wanted—wanted to…kill people in their sleep…you'd need their addresses." 

 "Addresses are nothing, Pettigrew," Regulus said dimly. "The Master needs _plans. _What is Dumbledore's next move? When is he planning to strike?" He leaned even closer. "That's what's important." He rose. "Give me the addresses, and I'll be on my way."

**

A/N: Okay, this took forever to come out (well, three weeks) but pretty soon it will be summer, and during the summer, I will have all day every day to update. That's how I got _Deflating _out so soon, because I was on summer vacation. Now, I have school. School=evil, and it's time consuming, but I am an updating machine today. I posted two "OC" fics and now this. So snaps for me. :)

 And I hope you enjoy the return of the stalker journals. I tried to make it sound like they did in _Deflating. _I figure if I finish this story but I'm not quite ready to let this universe thing go, I can always write the stalker journals and make them a fic of their own. That'd be kinda cool, huh? 

 Thanks still for all the reviews, they still make me _so _happy and I do take criticism and work with it (did everyone notice the lack of the word 'like' in this chapter?)…everything is appreciated. 

**_In the next chapter: _**Lily's wedding dress comes into play in an interesting way (well, sorta), more reminiscing over stalker journals occurs, and…that's all I wanna say. :) 


	14. The Wedding Dress

Tripping Down the Aisle 

Chapter Fourteen: The Wedding Dress         

***

 _Friday, 30 March_

_Two months, twenty-five days_

_***_

 Lily was sitting at her desk, reading through a report. It was a little after seven, and this report was the first in a long list of tasks that she simply _had _to complete before she could leave. She thought to herself, circling a mistake on the page in green ink and correcting it in the margin, that she could maybe use a coffee, and contemplated taking a break for one.

 But then there was a knock at the door, and the thought of a strong shot of caffeine flitted away from her mind. Lily looked up and was surprised to see Adeline standing in the doorway, looking fit to burst with excitement. 

 "Adeline," she said, the surprise and displeasure evident in her voice. "Whatever are you doing here?" 

 "Well, Miss Evans," Adeline replied, stepping into Lily's office and glancing around in distaste before lowering herself into the chair in front of Lily's desk, "I tried contacting you at your house, but no one replied to the fire. However, while getting myself a drink, I spotted your fiancé, and he told me that you were probably at work. I looked up your place of business in your file, and here I am!"

 "Uh-huh," Lily said slowly, removing her glasses and setting them in front of her. "And what was so important that you couldn't wait until tomorrow's meeting to tell me?" 

 Adeline smiled tightly, the sheer thrill of this clearly killing her. "The dress has arrived, Miss Evans."

 Lily blinked. "It has?" she asked, her voice unusually hushed.

 Adeline squealed like a schoolgirl with a crush and leaned forward. "It has!" she clarified jubilantly. "It is at my office at _this very moment._" She paused, eying the stack of papers sitting on Lily's desk, just waiting to be looked over. "But I can see you're busy, so…you're right, it probably can wait until tomorrow." She rose carefully, eyes glinting.

 Lily was already pulling on her coat. "Let's go," she said.

 Work could wait.

 She'd come back to it.

***

"Sirius, I don't think anything is wrong with Remus." 

Sirius sighed, agitated, and followed James to his cubicle. "Come _on, _Prongs. He keeps being all nice and stuff, and it's weird." 

James slid into his seat and looked up at his friend, amused. "Just because you're not a particularly nice person doesn't mean other people can't be," he said plaintively, taking a quill from his pocket and scribbling his name atop a notepad. 

Sirius leaned against the wall of James's cubicle, fingering a note from Peter resting on his desk. "Yeah, but he's not acting, like, normal nice. He's acting weird nice. The type of nice that is kinda scary." 

 James smirked. "Oh, please elaborate," he said sardonically.

"Okay, yesterday," Sirius began, starting to get really excited, "we were having dinner, right? And he kept asking me if I wanted another drink."

"Well, what were you drinking?"

"Tea with rum!"

James made a face. "Really?"

"Yeah."

"That is kinda weird."

"I know! Doesn't he always say that me drunk is 'a little too much fun'?"

James nodded. "He does say that." After thinking a moment, he filled in a blank on his report and loaded up his quill with ink. "Hey, I've got a business proposition for you."

Sirius raised his eyebrows. "Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah. Lily and I were talking the other night about…maybe, possibly…" He let the sentence trail off, and Sirius waited for him to finish.

When he didn't, Sirius prodded, "Yeah?"

"Publishing my Stalking Lily Evans journals." 

Sirius paused. "Are you serious?" he asked, his voice low and a little hollow.

James shrugged, a little embarrassed. "Well, yeah. Could be fun. I mean, I'd change the names and stuff, and I wouldn't write under my real name. I don't think my parents could live with that level of shame."

"No!" Sirius exclaimed vehemently, taking James aback a little. "No, you can't change the _names_!" 

"Why not? I don't necessarily want _everyone _to know how much of a prat I was back then."

Sirius snorted. "'Back then.' It was four years ago, Prongs, get over yourself. No, seriously, if you change the names, it'll…take away the honesty that is the story of your and Lily's relationship." 

"The _honesty_?" James repeated incredulously. "Sirius, my relationship with Lily is based entirely on an intricate web of lies, okay?"

"Oh, so, I'm confused…_why _are you marrying her? 'Cause aren't marriages supposed to be based on truth and respect and all that stuff?"

James rolled his eyes. "Well, once we're _married _I'll tell her the truth about everything. That way she _can't _run away from me." He sighed and set down his quill. "I think I'm done for the night."

"You want to get a drink or something?" Sirius asked, grabbing his jacket from the chair at his desk. 

James considered this proposition as he shrugged on his own jacket. "Nah," he decided. "I think I'm just going to go home. Have a sandwich, go to bed, you know."

"Okay. It'll just be me and a bottle of whiskey, then."

James grinned. "Just like every other night."

***

"Do you want some tea or something?" Remus asked Hestia, leaning into his pantry in search of any other kind of beverage. He didn't think he had anything, on account of the fact that he hadn't been grocery shopping in quite a few weeks, but he thought he'd look anyway.  

"No, thank you," Hestia said, her voice sounding distant since she was standing in the living room and Remus in the kitchen with his head in his pantry. "Actually, I can't stay very long."

Remus closed the pantry door and joined her in the living room. "Sit down," he said, motioning to the understuffed sofa. She did so, and he sat in the chair nearest her.

"Yeah, I needed to ask you something, though," Hestia said, tucking some of her hair behind her ear. 

"Go ahead," Remus replied, suddenly wishing he had something to do with his hands. 

Hestia sucked in a breath and straightened in her seat. "I have a meeting with Dumbledore in thirty minutes," she said, trying to hide the anxiety in her voice without success. "I don't know what it's about. He just sent me an owl a few days ago and asked if I would be available to meet with him today. I took the day off work, and, you know, here I am." She expelled a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding and asked, very softly, "Do you…do you know anything? Just so I can be better prepared, you know?"

"You can't ever really be prepared for Dumbledore," Remus smiled.

She laughed shakily at that. "Yes, I know."

"I don't know what he'd be meeting with you about, though," Remus told her. "Honestly, I don't." 

Hestia nodded slowly, and she seemed to be thinking about something. "That's not the only reason I came here, though."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." She sighed. "Remus, why do you always insist about talking about Sirius whenever we're together?"

He was taken aback. "He's my friend," he replied instantly.

"Yes, I know that. And I'd like to be his friend, too."

Remus paused. "So…what's the problem?"

Hestia sighed again, this time in something like exasperation. "Because, Remus, I'd like to be more than friends with _you._"

****

Lily felt like she was five years old all over again.

She twirled in front of the full-length mirror in her wedding dress, watching the white silky fabric of her skirt flare out around her like a flurry of snow and then swish back into place. She practiced curtsying, even though she didn't know why she'd ever curtsy. She introduced herself to herself as Mrs. James Potter, then Mrs. Lily Potter, then Mr. and Mrs. James Potter, then as Lily Evans-Potter, even though she thought hyphens in names were simply atrocious, not to mention kind of ridiculous. She Transfigured the dead daisies from the kitchen table into a bouquet of white roses and walked across the room to simulate her walk down the aisle. 

Lily giggled a lot as she did all of this.

She had gone home from work early, but had brought all of her work home with her, so it wasn't like she would be _behind _or anything. The dress had just looked so _suffocated _in its white plastic bag, and she couldn't just let it _sit _there. Dresses that pretty had to be let out to breathe. 

Besides, she had to make sure it fit. She didn't want it to be too big in the chest or too small in the waist or something on the day of the wedding. Lily didn't think it was good wedding etiquette to walk down the aisle in an ill-fitting gown. 

And Lily prided herself on her etiquette. 

She sighed happily and started posing, practicing for the photographs. Did she look better from the left side of the right? Should she wear her hair up or down? Should she be holding her bouquet or should she utilize her hands in a different kind of pose? 

As she was considering jewelry, she heard a 'crack' sound from the living room and James's voice calling, "Lily? Is that you?"

James wasn't supposed to be home!

James was supposed to be working late, like she was!

He couldn't _see _her in the dress! 

"Don't come in the bedroom!" she yelled.

"Why?" His voice was even _nearer _and she knew that he was right behind the door. 

She'd left her wand in the kitchen where she'd Transfigured the flowers, so she couldn't lock the door. 

"Just…just don't!" Lily said frantically, reaching for the comforter on the bed and pulling it hastily around herself, but James was already turning the doorknob and stepping inside.

He stopped, right in his tracks, in the doorway, his hand still on the knob. His face was frozen in an expression of almost comic shock. "What are you wearing?" he asked after a few moments.

She bit her lip. "Nothing," she said.

"Lily, I have seen you wearing nothing," James told her, his voice very serious, "and it has never looked like that."

She almost laughed at that, but sighed instead. "Now I have to get another dress," Lily said, annoyed. Then another thought occurred to her. "Or I could put a memory charm on you!" She gathered the ample skirt in her hands and started to exit the room to retrieve her wand from the kitchen, but James grabbed her by the elbow, effectively stopping her.

"Okay, why would you need a new dress?" he wanted to know. "This one's…this one's fantastic."

Lily shrugged. "I don't need a new dress anymore," she responded. "I'm going to memory-charm you. Just let me go get my wand—"

He gripped her arm again, not enough to actually hurt, but enough to stop her. "No memory charms, either. I like my memories."

"I'm not going to take _all _of them."

"I know. But I like this one a lot." 

Lily sighed. "James, it's bad luck for the groom to see the bride in her wedding dress before the wedding."

"So? We've got okay karma." 

Lily fought a smile, unsuccessfully. "What does karma have to do with…anything?"

"Well," James reasoned, "we've done a lot of good things for the world, right?"

"Like what?" Lily played along.

James thought about it. "I'm an Auror," he pointed out. "I help people. And you…you volunteered for that soup kitchen that one time."

"Ah, right," Lily smiled, sighing reminiscently. "My crowning achievement."

"The point is, Lily," James said, "that bad luck is stupid." 

Lily raised an eyebrow. "'Bad luck is stupid'?" she repeated.

He shrugged, released her arm, and sat on the bed. "I don't really know how else to put it," he admitted, proceeding to take off his shoes. "I think you look beautiful, and I'll still think that on the day of. So does it really matter that I saw you a little early?" 

"Kind of," she said stubbornly.

He smiled. "You don't really think that."

"Well," she said, sitting down next to him on the bed, "it's kind of like looking at your Christmas presents before Christmas, you know?" 

"But you still like the presents on Christmas," James pointed out. "You still want to play with them."

"Yes, but you don't have all the excitement and the anticipation that you would normally have. Plus after you look at them you have to wait longer to play with them and then you get anxious."

James paused. "Are we still talking about your dress?"

"I'm not sure."

****

Remus and Hestia both sat in silence for a good while.

In fact, twenty minutes passed before either of them said a word. 

Hestia glanced at her watch and rose from her seat, pulling her handbag over her shoulder. "I should go," she said softly. "I'm going to be late." 

"Yeah," Remus agreed, standing as well. 

She walked to the door, and he followed, opening the door politely for her. She stepped out into the hallway of his building, looking at the floor but not moving. Remus stood in the doorway, his hand holding the door open. He didn't move either.

They both just stood there, for another minute or so, neither of them looking at the other.

"I—I really should go," Hestia spoke up, her voice still very soft as she adjusted her purse. 

"Yeah."

"So…" Hestia said slowly. 

"So…"

"Listen," she said. "Don't tell Sirius."

Remus shook his head several times. "No, no, I wouldn't…I couldn't tell him something like that."

Hestia nodded solemnly. "Right," she agreed. "Right, well…I'm going to go." 

Remus nodded, too, and flashed her a weak smile, which she returned. 

She finally turned on her heel and walked briskly down the hall, her head down.

****

A/N: Again, apologies on the lateness. There are 14 school days left until summer vacation, so everything is sort of piling up, and I haven't had much time. But, while I know this chapter wasn't the epitome of excitement, it's definitely a connecting chapter, and you can't expect much of those.

There are only a few more chapters left (!!), which you can probably tell by the date up at the top. And that means the more exciting things are coming up, and _soon_, including…

**In the next chapter…**

--Lily and James compile their guest list

--Remus and Hestia have a conversation about what's going to happen with them that actually involves talking

--Someone dies. Seriously.

So, until then…

Review. Now. =)


	15. What To Do When Things Fall Apart

Tripping Down the Aisle Chapter Fifteen: What To Do When Things Fall Apart 

A/N: …Are you ready?

This is the longest chapter I've written in a while, and it's kinda important, which is probably the reason why it's so long. I'm on summer vacation now (::dance:: ) so the chapters should probably come a lot quicker now.

….

That's all, I think.

Happy reading!

----

Thursday, 12 April 

_Two months, twelve days_

_----_

"No."

Lily sighed and set her jaw, but continued writing. "She is my sister, James."

"Yeah, I know that, but that doesn't mean she gets an—an automatic invite or whatever," James insisted from across the table. He ran a hand through his hair and softened his tone when he spoke next. "I just don't get why you think it matters so much to invite her."

"Because," Lily replied, refilling her quill with ink, "she is my sister."

James reached across the table and pulled the page with the first draft of their guest list out from under Lily's quill, causing her to make a very long line of black ink across it. "No," he said. "No, no, no. I don't care, okay? I don't—I don't care that she's your sister, all right? All that girl has done for ten years is to try to make your life a living hell."

"I know that just as well as you do," Lily responded, reaching for her wand and Summoning the guest list from him. She prodded the wand absently at the streak of black ink, effectively erasing it.

"Okay, great. I'm glad we're on the same page. But, uh, maybe you could clear this up for me—_why _do you want to invite her?"

"She's my sister."

James gritted his teeth. "Lily."

"James, she's my sister, okay?" Lily said, throwing the quill down angrily. "She's my sister, and, yes, she has been a little difficult—"

"She told your parents I acted in porn."

"I remember."

"She told your parents we were living together."

"We were."

"We were also eighteen. We were barely out of school."

"I was there."

"Your dad asked me if I knew what a condom was."

Something that looked not unlike a smile twitched at the corners of her mouth. "I know how painful that was for you, love."

"I'm not sure you can." He forced a smile and said, "Lily, I just really…I don't want her to ruin that day for you. I…I might have to kick her arse if she does. And I don't hit girls."

Lily's smile came to fruition and she ducked her head, tucking her hair behind her ears. When she resurfaced, her expression was a lot more somber and a little bit sad. "Look," she said softly, "I know you're only looking out for me, and I appreciate it—I do. Really. But, James, she's my sister. And I know you can't possibly understand this, and I don't expect you to, but it's kind of important to me to invite her, all right?"

He didn't say anything as he watched her write Petunia's address under her name.

"Besides," Lily continued, her voice trembling a little as she refilled her quill with ink so as to write the next name, "it's not like she'll come or anything." Tears welled up in her eyes and she hastily swiped them away with her wrist. "You have nothing to worry about, really."

James pushed his chair back, scraping it on the linoleum, and came up behind her as she tried to write her cousin's name beneath Petunia's. Her usually neat script was wobbly and slanted, mostly because her hand was shaking and because her vision was blurry. James put both of his arms around her and kissed the top of her head. 

"She won't come," Lily repeated, her voice muffled by the crying.

"Maybe she will."

"She won't."

James rubbed at a spot of ink on her top. "Would you be happier if she did?"

Lily turned her head to look up at him. "I don't know," she admitted.

He reached up and tucked some of her hair behind her right ear. "See, here's my theory," he began. "I think you'd be miserable if Petunia did show up."

"Why's that?" she asked, sniffling a little.

"Because, Lily, you've tried so hard to impress her all this time. You got special permission to show her the magic you'd learned at school. And—remember?—she screamed at you and left the house for six hours and your parents thought she'd been kidnapped and she even called herself in missing and told the police that one of your 'freak friends' had taken her to do magic on her. Lily, if she actually responded positively to one of your nice gestures, I don't think you'd know what to do with yourself."

Lily was smiling a sad little smile at him now. "How long did it take you to think of that?" she asked quietly.

"Since you told me about her."

"That long?"

"Yeah."

"Why didn't you tell me this before?"

James shrugged awkwardly. "I dunno," he replied honestly. "I guess I thought you already knew."

Lily sighed, a very heavy sigh that made her seem older than she was, and reached up to take his hands. "I do know all that," she confessed. "I just keep hoping it's wrong, you know? Like I was just _imagining _how much she truly dislikes me, that I just made it up to invent more drama in my life. But I guess there really is…" She trailed off, biting her lip.

"Really is what?" James prodded.

"I really don't know, actually," she said. "Petunia just kind of…is, you know? She is what she is and as much as I'd like to, I can't change her."

"That's right."

She paused, stroking the side of his hand with her thumb. "I'm still inviting her, though."

"Yeah."

Sirius, Peter, and Remus were walking down the streets of London, searching for things that would fit at a bachelor party.

With the wedding less than three months away, Sirius was starting to get worried that the whole thing was going to be this great disaster. He knew that Lily and James were way behind on their invitations, they hadn't selected their menu yet, and that they didn't have wedding bands picked out. He knew that the time of the wedding was still very much up in the air, that they hadn't decided whether or not to write their own vows, and that the Portkey situation was a mess.

So he wanted to take a little bit of stress off of the two of them and make sure that the bachelor party was absolutely perfect.

Because everyone knew that the bachelor party was one of the most important parts of the wedding. It ranked at least number two, right behind the wedding itself.

Sirius sighed contentedly. "So, where should we have this thing at?" he asked.

"I'm sure whatever you pick will be great," Remus volunteered quickly.

"Yes," Peter agreed instantaneously.

Sirius cast the two of them a suspicious look. They had both been acting really weird as of late—even more so than usual—and it was starting to make him wonder if they knew something he didn't.

And it was becoming annoying.

So Sirius stopped, right in the middle of the sidewalk, and faced his friends. "All right," he said. "Tell me what's going on."

Remus glanced at Peter and Peter glanced at Remus and they both looked away from each other. "Nothing's going on," Peter squeaked.

"Absolutely nothing," Remus seconded, nodding.

Sirius started to walk backwards, tapping his index fingers together as he thought. "Come on," he said, smiling pleasantly at them so that they'd think he was on their side. "There's something you two know that I don't."

"No, there isn't," Remus insisted.

"Nothing," Peter said.

Sirius shook his head, still smiling. "Wormtail, Moony," he said, laughing heartily. "I have known you for a long time. And when you know stuff that I don't, you act like you don't know anything about anything. Now tell me—what's going on?"

"Nothing," Peter said.

"Not one thing."

Sirius expelled a long breath. "All right," he said. "I guess I'm just going to have to start guessing.   Okay…is Lily cheating on Prongs?"

"Not that I know of," Peter replied.

"Moony?"

"No," Remus responded flatly. "Don't be daft."

Sirius, out of the corner of his eye, spotted an outdoor café and made his way towards it, still talking. Remus and Peter followed diligently. "Is Prongs cheating on Lily?"

"I don't think so."

"No."

Sirius nodded like he had expected these answers, which he had. "All right," he said, taking a seat at a round table the color of butter. The other two mirrored him. "Um…are either of you dealing or taking drugs?"

Remus snorted and Peter let out a shrill laugh that made Remus wince and Sirius rub at his ears.

"Not since school," Peter reminded his friend.

Sirius nodded again, smiling still. "Okay…well, are either of you alcoholics?"

"Define 'alcoholic'," Peter said wryly.

"Are either of you whoring yourselves?"

"Yes," Remus said seriously. "There's my corner."

"Are either of you having problems of the financial sort?"

"My couch got repossessed again," Remus replied.

"I lost a Sickle in Diagon Alley last week," Peter offered.

"Peter, have you recently been diagnosed with an incurable disease?"

"Yes," Peter responded, looking solemn. "I have herpes."

"Why didn't you ask me that question?" Remus wanted to know.

Sirius waved a hand, dismissing the question. "Everyone knows what's wrong with you. That's boring already."

"I'm sorry," Remus said with sarcasm so potent you could almost feel it, "if my incapacitating condition is an inconvenience to _you._"

"Oh, I wouldn't say it's an _inconvenience_," Sirius replied, smiling. "I don't mind." He yawned, then turned the yawn into a sigh. "Speaking of boredom, I am bored now. Wanna go look for cheap strippers?"

Remus shrugged and glanced down at his watch. "Actually, it's getting kinda late. Maybe we should go home. Try again later?"

Sirius smirked at his friend as he attempted to pick some hardened black gum off the bottom of his left shoe with his short fingernails. "Now, Moony, I know you're somewhat of an…_innocent_."

Remus shook his head, thinking he probably knew where this was headed, and tried to hide a smile as Peter snickered appreciatively.

"But," Sirius continued, "these ladies sort of work better at night."

"Yeah," Remus said.

"Yeah, I mean, I don't think they do brunch or anything."

"Right."

"You don't get orange juice and a muffin with purchase."

"I get it."

Lily flopped down on her back on the bed, holding the guest list up for James so he could count the number of people they were inviting.

"A hundred and fifty-three," he reported after a few minutes.

Lily lowered the paper. "A hundred and fifty-three?" she repeated hollowly.

"I counted four times," he told her. "And I got a hundred and fifty-three twice, so I went with that one."

"We know a hundred and fifty-three people?" Lily asked incredulously.

James plucked the list out of her hand and lay down next to her. "Apparently," he replied, reaching for her hand and entwining his fingers with hers.

"How do we know a hundred and fifty-three people?" Lily wondered, bringing her and James' joined hands down to meet the ivory comforter, then pulling them up again, then bringing them down.

"Well, there's your family."

"Yeah."

"And my family."

"And your family's huge."

"And my family's huge," James agreed. "Then there's your friends."

"I don't have that many friends."

"And my friends. I don't have a lot of friends, either."

Lily looked over at him and smiled.  "Yes, you do."

James raised his eyebrows at her. "No, I don't."

Lily sat up, releasing his hand as she did so. "James, you have always had more friends than me. And that's fine. That's just the kind of person you are."

"The kind of person who needs lots of attention?"

"No," she said. "Well, kind of."

He sat up as well.

"It's not a bad thing," Lily said quickly. "You have a fantastic personality. You're outgoing and you're smart and you're funny and you're athletic and you're confident…that's the kind of person people like to be around. That's all I meant by it, okay?"

James knew how to take a compliment. He was always very good at it. He leaned over and kissed her once on the mouth, a short kiss to show that he appreciated her comment and agreed with it.

"Is that what attracted you to me?" he asked teasingly when he pulled away. "My outgoingness?"

She frowned, crinkling her nose. "Outgoingness?"

"Yes."

She smiled. "I don't know," she told him. "Maybe it was your ability to make up words on the spot."

"What _did _attract you to me?"

Lily laughed, collapsing against the pillows again. "How often do we have this conversation? Like, once every month or so?"

James grinned at her. "I have a very fragile ego, you know."

That elicited another giggle. "Oh, yes. _Such _a fragile ego you have."

"It is. Like you said, it needs constant attention and _massaging. _Today, it is feeling particularly breakable—"

"I don't think egos have feelings."

"Mine does. It's a special ego."

"I see."

"Mm. Now, my darling Lily, explain to me and my ego what attracted you to us."

She smiled idly and sat up again, leaning over to put her arms around his neck. "I guess," she said, thinking about it as she toyed with the baby hairs at the base of his neck, "I just warmed up to you, you know? I thought you were a selfish twat, but once I got to know you…I realized that you were a selfish twat, but that you were growing up into something better."

"I've always hated that about me," James told her, smiling.

Lily tugged at his hair. "I'm going to take back all these nice things I'm saying about you if you don't be nice to me."

He gasped in mock indignance, reaching over and tickling her, causing her to fall back on the bed, shrieking with laughter and kicking halfheartedly at him to make him stop. "I'm _always _nice to you!" he exclaimed, the air of shock and appall still a very present force in his voice.

Lily, still gasping with laughter, nodded. "Of course you are."

He stopped tickling her.

She sat up again.

"You know, I used to hate your smile," she said thoughtfully.

James paused. "Okay."

"No, I really did," Lily said, as if trying to convince him. "To me, it was so…pretentious, you know? Like 'ooh, look at me, I'm so special, everyone bow down to me'."

"I did think that every once and a while," James told her, grinning.

That elicited a smile. "Yeah. But one day I was sitting in History of Magic, and you were across the room from me, and you saw me looking and you smiled at me, and I realized that everything all those stupid girls that gossiped about you in the girls' room had said about your smile was absolutely true."

James straightened. "You have never mentioned these gossiping girls before," he said. "Now you have to tell me what they said."

"About your smile?"

"About anything. But, yeah, we can start with the smile."

Lily thought a bit, tossed her hair, and said, "Megan Chandler said once, I think, that when you smiled, it made your eyes light up and sort of…sparkle."

James burst into laughter.

Lily grinned with him. "I know. It's sad, isn't it? But it's kinda true. And…someone said that your smile made everyone around you want to smile. And that's true. Someone said that when you smiled at them, it made their hair stand on end. And that's true."

"That's very nice," James said. "Are you sure you didn't get that from your romance novels, though?"

She smirked. "Maybe I did. Doesn't make it any less true, though."

Remus climbed the stairs to his flat. There were seven flights of stairs before his floor, and usually he didn't bother with them, choosing simply to Apparate instead. But today he was thinking, so he had kind of a reason to take the stairs. He knew he would be severely winded by the time he got to his flat, but he thought that sleeping was a good idea after all this thinking.

Sirius would figure it out.

What was _it_, though? There really wasn't an _it_, if Remus were to be completely honest. _It _was, for all intents and purposes, him and Hestia, but nothing had really happened there, _because _of Sirius.

If it were not for Sirius and the way Sirius felt, Remus would be in a relationship. He would have all the ups and downs that came with a relationship. He would have someone to come home to, someone to hug and kiss and tell things that he didn't tell his friends, even. He would have the little spats that James and Lily and people in relationships often had, and he would have the making up period afterwards.

Remus had not had all of those things in a very long time.

He would like to have those things, sure. But he would also like to have Sirius as a friend, and he knew that that relationship had to come first. Always.

But that didn't stop him from missing Hestia terribly.

It had been almost a fortnight since he'd seen or heard from her. Several times he'd started to write to her to ask her to meet him somewhere for dinner before he'd remember and then he'd write to Peter or to James or to Sirius instead.

None of his friends realized that anything was wrong.

It was better that way. Remus didn't really want them asking too many questions and putting things together and getting it.

Because, as he kept telling himself, there was no _it._

Or there couldn't be. Not anymore.

He had reached his floor. Remus headed down the hallway, fumbling around in his pocket for his key. He found it, turned the key in the lock, and stopped in the doorway.

Hestia Jones sat on his couch, hands folded in her lap, looking up at him with sad eyes.

"We really should talk," she said.

_It's too late—too early for this_, James thought as he rubbed his eyes and stumbled into the living room, where the fireplace was. _It's three o' clock in the sodding morning, and someone's trying to talk to me._

One thing was for certain: if it was Peter or Sirius calling because they were drunk and needed to tell him something that they thought was something hysterically funny ("Get this, Prongs, get this: there's a pigeon outside my window. It's a pigeon. And it's _outside my window._") he was seriously going to kill them. Really this time.

He had been having a lovely dream in which Georgina Perry, a famous Canadian model, was feeding him honey and strawberries and asking him if he'd like a backrub while wearing a black lace corset. Not James wearing a corset—Georgina. James wouldn't look good in a black lace corset. He always thought the color made him look short. He didn't know why, it just did.

James ran a hand through his extremely tangled hair and reached the fireplace.

He stopped, dead in his tracks, when he saw who it was.

"Professor Dumbledore," he said, glancing down at his choice of sleepwear, which was his green plaid boxer shorts and nothing else. "Hello," he added lamely, unsure of what else to say.

Dumbledore was looking especially grave, which could mean nothing good. James felt weak, he was sure someone had died, sure it was his parents or Lily's, and… God, he just couldn't go to any more funerals. He couldn't sit clutching Lily's sweaty hand on a hard bench, ducking his head and muttering soothing words to her as she sobbed and he tried so hard not to cry himself. He couldn't buy any more carnations and roses and lilies to toss on caskets as they were lowered into muddy holes as it rained—because it always rained on funerals. It always rained.

It was beginning to be too much, and he was sure if he didn't break, Lily would. And he couldn't handle that. Any of it.

"There has been another attack," Dumbledore began quietly.

James put his face in his hands, rubbing his cheeks and his temples and his closed eyes, hoping that maybe when he emerged from behind his hands this would be a dream, just like Georgina Perry and the honey.

"James?"

"Yeah," James replied, to show Dumbledore he was still listening. "Who is it this time? My family? Lily's? Sirius?"

"Gideon and Fabian Prewett were killed two hours ago," Dumbledore told him, his voice hushed.

James lifted his head.

There was no way.

There was just no fucking way.

Gideon Prewett was too good of an Auror; James had to admit, to just _die. _He was a prat, but…fuck. It just couldn't happen.

"Five Death Eaters stormed in on the Prewetts as they slept. They tortured Fabian, his wife, and Gideon, but they fought it off…Gideon managed to kill one of them, before he was killed himself. Fabian and Tracey were killed not long after."

James didn't know how Dumbledore could sound so calm.

His head was spinning.

He had _known _Prewett, he'd talked to him, he'd shared a sandwich with him once. They'd talked about sports. James had been so _jealous _of Prewett, and now that…now that _this _had happened, it all seemed so _stupid, _so childish, and…

This…this was real.

Voldemort, the Death Eaters, Dark Marks hanging mistily over houses, lives ending…

It was real.

It wasn't something that you read about in the paper, commented once on, then put away and never thought about again. This wasn't going to end. It was always going to be there, like pollution and illness and famine and all the other terrible things going on in the world.

_It was real._

Gideon knew that.

It had taken the death of someone James actually knew for him to realize it himself.

"I assume Miss Evans is asleep?" Dumbledore queried, jerking James out of his whirling storm of thoughts.

Oh, God, _Lily._

He had difficulties telling her when plants died or food went bad; how could he tell her _this_?

James nodded.  "Yeah," he replied hoarsely. His mouth was completely dry, his throat scratchy. He needed a glass of water. "I can tell her," he added before Dumbledore could ask. "I'll…I'll tell her now." He paused and said, "Give my regrets to the family."

Dumbledore nodded grimly, and disappeared.

James sat there in the dark for about three minutes, his face buried in his hands.

And he let himself cry.

Remus stood there in the doorway, the shock washing over him. He'd sort of lost feeling in his fingers, and before he knew it, the key dropped to the floor. He stooped to pick it up, and set it down on the table next to the door.

"It's really late," he said.

"It's really early, actually," Hestia corrected. "It's after three."

"In the morning?" Remus asked, surprised. That shouldn't really surprise him, actually. He'd walked all the way home, and Remus was not the most athletic of people. He was about ninety-five percent sure he had blisters on his feet. The walk had not seemed that long, but judging by the fact that it had taken over four hours, it probably was.

"Yeah, in the morning," Hestia replied.

There was more silence.

"You shouldn't be here," Remus told her, breaking it. "I mean, really."

"I miss you," she said simply. "And we left things in a bad place."

He didn't say anything, but he was getting very uncomfortable. The blisters hurt, and he'd like nothing more than to lie down and sleep for about a thousand years and not have to deal with this. Remus was not in the mood for long conversations about things he wanted but couldn't have and the reasons why he couldn't have them.

Hestia rose and uncertainly crossed the room to where he was leaning up against the doorway. She stood in front of him and she just stared.

"I miss you," she repeated.

He couldn't be mean and not tell her. "I miss you," he said. 

She kept her eyes on his. "Talk to me?" she asked.

He shook his head, slowly. "No," he responded.

Hestia sighed, exasperated. "We can't leave things like this."

"Why not?" Remus asked. "Listen, I'll—I'll forget it ever happened if you will. We can still—"

"I'm not going to _forget it ever happened_!" Hestia exclaimed in disbelief. "And I know you won't either."

"Hestia—"

She shook her head and stepped closer. She was about three inches away from him now, and his breathing became more and more irregular. "I know," Hestia told him, still staring him straight in the eyes, "that you want this as much as I do."

"How can you know that?" he asked her. He'd never said anything. Even when she said what she felt for him that day, he never returned it. As far as he knew, he'd never given her any reason to believe that he didn't just see her as a very nice person that he enjoyed hanging around with. Oh, wait. There was the fact that he turned into a stuttering, rambling prick at least once whenever they were together. Maybe that tipped her off. Or maybe she just thought he was like that and there were _other _clues.

It was all giving Remus a headache.

"Remus, you turn into a blithering idiot whenever you're around me," Hestia told him. "And I know that you're not. An idiot, that is."

"You don't know that either. I could be the stupidest person you've ever met, but you wouldn't know it because I have this calendar that improves your vocabulary. It gives you a word of the day and you have to use it in a sentence. It makes you smart. See, thanks to the calendar, I know that…quintessence means perfection. Did you know that?"

"When I first met him, Sirius told me about all of his friends," Hestia said. "And when he talked about you, he said that you were the most intelligent person he knew."

"Sirius doesn't know that many smart people."

"Yeah?" she said. "Well, I do. And you're one of them."

She took another step forward. They were actually touching, her legs against his, her chest against his, her arms against his. She reached up and threaded her hands through his hair, which, of course, sent shivers just about everywhere throughout his body. He wanted to tell her to stop, because this could lead to nothing good, but the fact was, it _was _leading somewhere good. Just not really good for Sirius. And Remus knew that if something wasn't good for Sirius, Sirius would make sure it wasn't good for anyone else.

But knowing that didn't stop him, for whatever reason, for lowering his head to hers and kissing her.

And she kissed back.

And it was wonderful, just like he knew it would have to be. It wasn't like Remus had a lot to compare it to, but this was definitely his best kiss, because it wasn't uncomfortable like the others. It was slow and soft, not hurried because the teachers might be coming. This kiss took its time, and Hestia let him touch her and he allowed her to completely mess up his hair.

But then he pulled his hands out from under her shirt and removed hers from his hair and jerked away, effectively banging his head against the door.

"No," he said, his voice hoarse and low. "No, I—we can't."

Hestia shook her head and looked away from him, tugging on the hem of her shirt. "I don't see why not," she said crossly.

"Sirius has been my best friend for ten years now, okay?" Remus told her. "And he's completely mad about you. And—"

"Well, what about you?" Hestia asked, raising her voice so it would be heard over his.

Remus stopped. "What do you mean, what about me?"

"What do you want?"

Remus rubbed at the place where his head and the door had made contact. The skin was already sort of raising up, and he could tell that if he didn't magically mend it soon he'd have a massive bump there the next morning. "I want everyone to be happy," he said finally.

"You can't," Hestia replied. "You can't have everyone be happy, especially in this kind of situation."

"I know that," Remus said. "But I just…I can't be selfishly happy like that. I can't just abandon Sirius and ignore what he's feeling because you like me better or whatever is going on."

"Remus, have you _ever _been selfish?" Hestia asked. "I mean, really. Have you ever just taken what you wanted because you wanted it and you knew it would make _you_ happy?"

He stared at her, unsure of what to say to that.

"You haven't," Hestia said. "You're just that kind of person. You want everyone else to be happy before you'll even think about yourself."

"Nothing wrong with that," Remus responded stoically.

"Yeah, there is," Hestia said impatiently, "when you can't be happy at all."

He paused. "I'm happy," he said.

"You are?"

"Yeah," he said. "And even if I wasn't, it's not really any of your concern."

She stared. "It's not," she repeated flatly.

"Or it shouldn't be."

Hestia let out an exasperated sort of laugh. "Remus, you're making this harder than it is!"

"No, I'm not!" he exclaimed. "Sirius is my best friend and this would _kill _him. You don't understand, he's an emotionally volatile person, and—"

"So why does he have to know?" Hestia interrupted.

Remus was rendered speechless yet again.

"We can be together…but we don't have to tell him. We don't have to tell anyone, if you don't want to."

He hesitated, looking down at her hopeful face. "You know that never works out," he said.

"It could. We'll be careful."

"No, but…"

"Listen," Hestia interrupted again, wrapping her arms around his neck and winding her fingers through her hair, "I really want to be with you, you know? And if that takes…sneaking around and acting like I'm fifteen again, I'll do it. I don't care. Okay? I just—I just want to be with you."

He didn't say anything, still staring at her.

"And if it doesn't work out for you," she continued, "we'll break it off. We'll…we won't see each other anymore."

Hestia moved her right hand out of his hair and touched his cheek, hesitantly. "Okay?"

And slowly, realizing that he was making a giant mistake but not really caring for once, he nodded.

James rose from the ottoman he'd been sitting on and started to head down the hallway towards the bedroom, where Lily was still asleep. He stepped into the room, taking in the way everything looked different now. The clothes on the floor, the pictures on the dressers, the Quidditch paraphernalia on the walls, Lily's jewelry spilling out of its boxes…everything looked misshapen, out of place.

And Lily, peacefully sleeping with her arm curled around her pillow, looked so strange to him now.

She wasn't upset.

She was dreaming, she was breathing heavily and evenly, her hair spilling over her shoulders and splayed onto the crisp white of the pillows.

She seemed content.

And he realized that he needed her now.

He crawled into bed next to her and whispered her name a few times until her eyes slowly opened and she yawned, taking him in.

"What's wrong?" she asked him. "Is everything okay?"

"Could you…" James felt ridiculous. "I love you."

She smiled faintly. "I love you, too." She looked closer at him and sat up, frowning. "What's the matter?" she asked. "You've been crying." She reached up and lightly touched the stretch of skin just below his right eye, and it tickled a little. "What happened, James?"

Why had he agreed to tell her?

He couldn't tell her. He couldn't just say, "Your friend Prewett's dead, love, and I'm a mess."

James wanted to tell her that nothing had happened, that it was all a bad dream, that she should just go back to sleep.

But that would be lying, and he couldn't lie to her, now when her eyes were so wide with fright and dread and million other things he couldn't quite find the names for.

"Prewett," he said.

She gripped the comforter. "No," she said.

He nodded slowly. "Yes."

Lily shook her head. "No, I mean…" Her eyes filled up with tears and she stumbled over her words. "I _know _him. He's…he's still alive."

"Baby," he said. He'd never called her that before; he thought it was cheesy and something people only said in songs because it rhymed with a lot of things—honestly, why would you want to call your girlfriend your 'baby'? You didn't give birth to her. And if you did, that'd be a crime and really gross—but it seemed okay for the time. "Baby, I'm so sorry."

"If I don't believe it," Lily choked, "if I don't believe it, it's not true, right?"

James didn't know what to say.

"Right?" she pressed. "Tell me I'm right."

"I wish I could," he said.

A/N: A few people guessed that Gideon would be the one to die, so…morbid snaps for them, I guess. That actually was mentioned in OotP—the Prewetts dying. She didn't mention Fabian having a wife, but I always pictured it like that and I don't exactly know why, so I put it in there.

Lily's reaction seems kinda dramatic to me, dontcha think? I think it's just that realization that it can happen to her (to them, actually, since Prongsie's kind of a wreck as well). You know? You read and you hear about stuff like this, but you don't expect it to happen to you. It's kinda the same thing.

That's how I intended it, anyway.

And as for Mr. Moony…he's just gotten himself into all kinds of trouble, hasn't he? Don't worry, I won't let him get away with it too easily.

I tried to inject _some _humor in the midst of all this melodrama (::grin::) but it was sorta hard. So my apologies if this chapter isn't as funny as I usually try to make them.

I'd like to keep this story to an even 20 chapters, just like _Deflating, _but I'm not seeing this wrapped up in five more chapters. _Maybe _it will, if I can get my act together and force myself to write an outline for what has to happen.

…I think I'll do that next.

That's it for now, I think.

Review. Now. :)


	16. Initiations

****

Tripping Down the Aisle

Chapter Sixteen: Initiations**__**

* * *

_Saturday, 22 April _

_Two months, two days_

_

* * *

_

"I can't do this."

James looked away from the mirror, where he was carefully knotting his tie, to the closet, where Lily's voice had just come from. She was sitting down amongst a pile of black clothing, clutching a skirt in her hands so tightly that he thought she might rip it. She glanced up at him.

"I just can't," she said.

James sighed and crossed the room to sit down next to her. "Listen," he said. "I know—I know you don't want to. _I _don't want to."

"It's not that I don't want to," Lily replied flatly. "It's just that I don't think I can. Funerals are so…" She trailed off, unsure of what to do with that sentence. "They just make me feel worthless, you know? There's nothing I can do to make anyone feel better, and they make me miserable for days afterwards."

He knew this. He had been to funerals with Lily before.

But that didn't mean he knew what to say about it. Especially when he felt exactly the same way.

But he had to pretend like he was okay, for Lily's sake. Even if she knew otherwise, which she did.

"Look," James said. "No one…no one likes funerals. You know? But it's something you kinda have to do. You liked Gideon. You knew him, right? And you want to pay your respects. That's why you go. Not to make anyone feel better."

Lily stared at him for a good minute, which made him feel like he'd said something wrong, something to offend her.

"What?" he asked finally.

She cleared her throat. "Would you pick me out something to wear?" she questioned softly, hesitantly. "Nothing—nothing seems right to me."

James nodded slowly. "Yeah. Yeah, I can do that."

She nodded, too. "Thank you."

James stood up and offered her a hand to help her up as well. Once she was on her feet, she stood awkwardly off to the side, her fingernail in her mouth, watching him. "It's nothing," he told her, walking over to her side of the closet and starting to pick through her things.

"I don't mean just the clothes," Lily said.

James turned away from her sweaters.

"I mean everything," she said. "Thank you for everything."

He looked at her for a few moments before nodding again. "Yeah," he responded.

* * *

On some level—well, on a lot of levels—Remus knew that this was wrong. He knew that, years into the future, he would think back on this relationship and wish that he hadn't put his friendship with Sirius at risk for a girl—no matter how great she was. He knew that this would have to end, and that when it did, he would try to get Sirius's friendship back, but wouldn't be able to.

And all of this acknowledgement stemmed from Remus knowing that, no matter how much they all joked otherwise, Sirius was exceptionally smart.

In fact, if Remus were feeling particularly guilty—which he was—he'd even go as far as to say that Sirius was kinda brilliant.

Which was why Remus knew that it was only a matter of time before Sirius found out. And then Sirius would kill him, and that would be the end of that.

But it was hard to think about all that stuff when Hestia had him pinned against a wall in her apartment and was fumbling with the fastenings of his cloak.

He did not know why all of their romantic-type encounters occurred against walls. It just kind of happened that way, and it wasn't like he was going to interrupt her to ask if they could maybe move somewhere softer.

"So," she mumbled against his mouth, "does Sirius have any idea?"

Remus jerked away and, again, found himself slamming the back of his head against the door to Hestia's bedroom. "You're thinking about Sirius right now?" he asked, pretending to be hurt. Which really wasn't that much of a stretch, seeing as how the bump from _last _time hadn't really healed and he'd managed to hit his head _this _time in the exact same place so there were waves of pain radiating through his head. But he was pretending to be hurt in a different kind of way, of course.

"No," Hestia responded. "But _you_ are. Is your head okay? You keep doing that."

"I'm not thinking about Sirius," Remus said, ignoring the bit about his head.

She sighed and stepped away from him. "Yes, you were."

"You don't know that."

"I asked you about seven times if you wanted to go in the bedroom and you didn't say anything."

Remus wet his lips, his cheeks burning a little at the mention of going into Hestia's bedroom. He pushed this aside, however, and muttered, "It's nothing, really. I'm fine."

She stared at him. "Are you sure?"

_No, I'm not sure because I know I'm not fine. I'm a horrible sod of a person who should be thrown in prison._ _Or something similar. _"Yes," he told her, nodding for emphasis.

Hestia swallowed, as if bracing herself, before she asked, "You're not…you're not regretting anything? This?"

"I wish it didn't have to happen this way," he allowed.

She nodded, looking down at the floor and gripping his hand. "Me, too," she said. "But if this is how it has to happen…"

_It doesn't _have _to happen this way. I could tell him, but I'm too afraid to because I know it would absolutely kill him. And me. _"Yeah. No, you're right."

Hestia stared at him for a few more moments—she really had a habit of doing that, he was beginning to notice—before saying, "Let's go fix your head, okay?"

Remus nodded and let her lead him into the kitchen.

They were avoiding things, and they knew it.

But ignorance is bliss.

At least, it is until you can't go on being ignorant anymore.

Then things pretty much suck.

* * *

It was, of course, raining.

Lily was successfully dressed, and so was James, and they were heading to the flower shop to buy something to throw on Gideon's casket. Lily was thinking carnations. Carnations were simple, but they were elegant and she liked the way the petals felt when she rubbed them between her fingers. They smelled kinda funny, but that wasn't important.

Lily tugged on her skirt, which was about two sizes too small and was beginning to suffocate her. She could only hold in her stomach for so long. The skirt also didn't really match the shoes that James had picked out for her, but she couldn't really care. She hadn't asked her boyfriend to pick her an outfit because of his outstanding fashion sense.

They stood at the street corner, waiting for all the people to pass so they could cross the street.

James was clutching her hand like she was four years old and still needed assistance crossing. He was staring straight at the flower shop, his jaw rigid and his back straight. She realized, for maybe the sixth or seventh time since she'd known him, how tall he was. He'd always been tall, of course, but Lily was fairly tall herself, and she never really noticed it like she noticed it now. She wondered if it was possible for him to have grown…overnight, really.

His hair was wet, a side effect of walking around in the rain for about twenty minutes. It was coming down pretty hard now, and his hair was plastered to his head and he had water droplets on his glasses. She didn't know how he could see like that, but she doubted he was seeing anything anyway.

"Hey," she said, softly.

He turned away from the flower store and looked down at her.

Lily squeezed his hand once. "It'll be fine," she told him.

James pushed some of his sopping hair out of his eyes and nodded. "I know." He looked away from her and she from him, both of them looking back toward the store.

They always did this. Whenever something terrible happened that could affect both of them, they sort of took turns comforting each other. And some of the time, it helped. Some of the time, it didn't. Neither of them were really sure which was the case this time. And it wasn't exactly the kind of thing they should've been analyzing at this point in time.

The street finally cleared.

James tightened his grip on her hand and stepped off the curb, sort of pulling her with him. They crossed to the flower shop and James held the door open for her. She entered the glowing warmth of the store first, mumbling a "Thank you" to him as he followed, letting the heavy glass door close on its own.

"Aren't you cold?" he asked her as she headed toward the vase of carnations on a counter on the left side of the room.

"What?" Lily returned, confused.

"Your clothes are completely soaked through," he said. "You've got to be freezing."

She smiled dimly at him, turning back to the flowers. "Look at yourself," she responded, fingering a pink carnation lightly.

He glanced down at himself and saw that, because he had been standing in the same place for a few minutes, he was creating a small puddle of water around his feet. The shop owner was watching him with an annoyed expression on her face as she arranged a bouquet for a customer.

"Sorry," James mumbled to her.

She clicked her tongue and returned to the flower arrangement.

James took out his wand and tapped himself, muttering a drying charm under his breath and heading towards Lily. He did the charm on her as well, and she jumped in surprise at the sudden warmth and lack of water. "Oh," she said, when she realized it was only him. She flashed him a smile of thanks before biting her lip and turning back to the flowers. "Carnations, I'm thinking," she told him.

"Whatever you want."

"I sincerely hope that you're not thinking of carnations for the _wedding_!"

Lily closed her eyes tightly at the sound of the patronizingly sugary voice behind her. Not now. Not on the day of Gideon's _funeral. _James gripped her elbow, but Lily turned anyway, opening her eyes to reveal Adeline standing in front of them, standing in front of a politely confused looking couple and holding a folder in one hand and a receipt in the other.

"Adeline," Lily said, her tone of voice causing James to realize that this was heading nowhere good. "What are you doing here?"

Adeline released a light, tinkly little laugh. "Shopping, of course!" she said cheerfully. "Miss Evans, Mr. Potter, this is Christine Betton," she motioned to the woman behind her, who smiled awkwardly, "and her fiancé, Nathan Hane. Christine, Nathan, these people are clients of mine—Lily Evans and James Potter."

James smiled at Nathan and Christine, who smiled back. Lily forced her own tiny smile before turning back to Adeline. "What's wrong with carnations?" she asked flatly.

Adeline laughed her false laugh again, and it suddenly reminded James of wind chimes. "Well, Miss Evans, carnations are entirely inappropriate for a wedding. They're more of…funeral flowers."

Lily's entire body went rigid; James could feel her tense up from where he held her elbow and he winced at this comment. "Funeral flowers," Lily repeated densely. "Really."

"Lily," James mumbled under his breath, hoping she would hear but no one else would.

She brushed off his warning and said, "Well, I'm glad you think carnations are funeral flowers, Adeline. Finally, something you and I agree on."

The tension in the air was as thick as unmixed cement. Adeline's smile wavered; clearly she knew that Lily would rather let a million tiny ants eat her alive than admit that she and Adeline had something in common.

"No carnations at the wedding, then?" Adeline asked jerkily, obviously unsure of what to say.

"No," Lily responded. "No carnations at the wedding. I think that I'll be rather put off by them after the _funeral _we're about to go to."

The ringing silence was making James's head hurt. "Okay," he said with false brightness, clapping his hands together. "I think Lily and I should be going, don't you, Lily?"

* * *

Today Peter would officially become a Death Eater.

He was terrified out of his mind. He'd already thrown up twice today, and after that sandwich he'd just had, he was beginning to feel like number three was just around the corner.

Peter sat on his bed, rubbing at his face and trying really hard not to cry. Surely crying wasn't allowed in Death Eater initiations. There was probably a test you had to go through before they even let you into the arena (because Peter was pretty sure they held these things in stadiums. It was a big event. And big events were usually held in stadiums. Well, unless they were being held at Hogwarts, but he didn't think that that particular venue was open to Voldemort and his henchmen) to make sure you weren't still…emotionally attached to your other life. They probably took pictures out of your wallet, they searched your house for the things that related you to other people—pictures, of course, and letters, and…Peter couldn't really think what else, but he was pretty sure that they would find other things and remove them from his house.

He lived with his _mother, _for God's sake. Would they take her, too?

He hadn't told her, of course. That would just be stupid. Not that she really understood what was going on in the outside world.

Mrs. Pettigrew was a kind of a hermit, and she had been ever since Peter's father died when Peter was nine. Peter didn't have any brothers or sisters, and he was kinda lonely in the house with just his mother, who was perennially depressed but tried to act like she wasn't. She sort of needed him to be around, so she could cook for him and do his laundry and tell him to clean his room. Peter had always worried about her when he went off to school, so he wrote her all the time, and she always said that his letters were the light of her life.

He couldn't just move out on her. She couldn't live without him, and that wasn't just Peter being conceited. He always got to the _Prophet _before she did so he could take out all the stories about the mysterious massacres and disappearances. She just couldn't handle that sort of bad news.

So he kept her in the dark.

Mrs. Pettigrew had no clue that the world was suffering a…a dark revolution or whatever it was that they were calling it now. She didn't know that men and women and children were murdered almost every night in their houses.

And she definitely didn't know that her son, her _reason for living, _was about to be a part of it.

Oh, God.

Peter could feel his stomach churning and he clapped his hand to his mouth and ran to the bathroom.

* * *

Sirius stood alone in the reception hall, pretending to be interested in the flower arrangements that sat on the tables that flanked either end of the hall. The scent coming away from the bouquets was too heady for Sirius's taste and was giving him a slight headache.

He hated funerals. But then, who really liked them?

He had yet to see anyone he knew well enough to start up a conversation with. Sirius had exchanged "Hello, how are you"s with a few people, but nothing more than that. He scratched his head absently and casually scanned the room again. There were at least sixty people here, but none that he knew well enough to talk to? That had certainly never happened before.

Sirius had always been something of a social butterfly. He liked people and people liked him, and that was just the way things went. And, sure, he still liked people. And, yeah, people still liked him because Sirius was a generally likeable person. He was charming, he was confident, he was _exhaustingly _funny, he was devastatingly good looking, he was a sparkling conversationalist…

But apparently, that wasn't enough to guarantee friends anymore.

Not that that was to say that Sirius didn't have friends.

He had a lot of friends.

Just…he had mostly the same friends he'd had for ten years.

"Hey."

Sirius jumped, startled. He turned to see Hestia and Remus, wearing identical expressions of amusement and concern.

"Are you okay?" Remus asked him.

"I'm fine. I was just…thinking. What are you guys doing here?"

"Funeral," Hestia replied quickly.

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "Really? Are you sure? Because I'm here for the cock fight."

Remus shook his head, glancing around the room in the same motion. "Seen James or Lily?" he questioned, stuffing his hands in his pockets and turning back to Sirius.

Sirius brushed some hair out of his face. "No. James says Lily's pretty upset, though."

"They were good friends, weren't they?" Hestia asked.

"James and Lily?" Sirius said, confused. "Yeah, they're…they're still pretty good friends, as far as I—"

"No," Hestia interrupted. "I meant…" She trailed off uncomfortably and Sirius knew exactly whom she was talking about.

"Oh," he said, stumbling over the words "Yeah, they were…they…she's taking it hard."

Hestia nodded gravely, the serious expression out of place on her usually lively face. It made her look older than she was.

"Did you come here together?" Sirius inquired, motioning loosely to the two of them.

They exchanged looks that Sirius couldn't read. "No," they said together.

"No, I came here—"

"I was standing outside—"

"Saw him—"

"Yeah, went inside—"

"Together, but not _together_."

Silence. Both Hestia and Remus flushed and looked away.

"So…what are you guys doing this weekend?" Sirius asked, mostly to break the uncomfortable silence.

Hestia and Remus both turned jerkily to Sirius, surely giving themselves whiplash. "Nothing," they chorused together.

"What we mean is," Remus said, clearing his throat and getting that weird, strained sort of look on his face that he was getting a lot lately, "I'm doing nothing, you know, and Hestia's not doing anything either, so we're both doing nothing but…doing that separately."

Hestia and Sirius stared at him.

"What is _with _you lately?" Sirius said after what seemed like an hour of staring. "Are you sick?"

Remus was saved from answering by the sudden appearance of James, who shuffled over to the group with his hands in his pockets, looking lost. It made Sirius uncomfortable, seeing his best friend looking so scared and confused and—more than anything—sad.

"Prongs!" Sirius greeted his friend, trying to cheer him up by using an obnoxiously bright tone of voice. "What are you up to?"

Remus and Hestia cast him the exact same sidelong glance. Sirius was beginning to think that the two of them were beginning to spend way too much time together; they were talking at the same time and shooting him simultaneous looks…yeah, he was definitely going to have to cut them off.

James didn't notice Remus and Hestia. He looked up from the floor and met Sirius's eyes. "I'm at a funeral," he replied, his voice flat. "What do you think I'm up to?"

Sirius's smile faltered slightly.

"Sorry," James mumbled, noticing this. "It's been…it's been a bad day."

Remus and Hestia nodded _in time_.

Seriously, it was getting annoying.

Sirius tried not to let the Closeness bother him, but it left a weird feeling in his stomach.

"Where's Lily?" Remus asked, interrupting Sirius's revelry.

James turned around to look, raking a hand through his hair. He motioned with his other hand across the room. "She's talking to Molly Weasley," he explained listlessly. "She was a relative."

"Of Lily's?" Hestia wanted to know, surprised.

James raised his eyebrow at her. "Of Gideon's."

Hestia looked down at the floor. "Right," she mumbled. "I'm sorry."

James waved it off. "I'm being a prat today, _I'm _sorry." He sighed. "Anyone seen Peter?"

Sirius shook his head. "He can't come," he replied softly. "His mother's sick."

James ruffled his hair again. "I'd think that the funeral of his fellow Order member would be more important than his mother being sick again, but—"

"Hey," Sirius interrupted sharply. "It's his mother, okay? You know she's…" He trailed off, acutely aware of Hestia's presence. "You know she's not well," he finished.

James nodded slowly. "Right," he muttered. He could _not _seem to get his hand out of his hair. Sirius knew that this tendency of his friend's had been reduced down to a sporadic habit over time, showing up only when he was especially nervous or annoyed, but Sirius was beginning to see why it had annoyed Lily so much. "I'm sorry, you guys, I'm just…" He tried to smile. "I'm really not good with funerals. And Lily's a mess and…I'm not concentrating. Maybe I should go be by myself or get drunk or something…"

"Ah, no drinking," Remus said lightly. "I don't think Drunk!James would be a very good person to have at a funeral."

"There's not any alcohol here anyway," Sirius told him. "I checked."

James winced. "That's a shame."

"Mm. At my funeral, there will be alcohol aplenty. Vodka spilling from fountains, kegs, those little mini-rum bottles attached to the programs…"

"Fun for the whole family," Remus commented dryly.

"I don't think you'll have much control over what's at your funeral, Sirius," Hestia said, smiling a small, indulgent smile.

"I'll write it in my will. That and my sing-along idea."

"Oh, God," Remus muttered, looking away from Sirius. "I'd completely forgotten about that."

"I haven't," James said.

"What's the sing-along idea?" Hestia inquired, becoming a little weary of always having to ask questions in order to understand conversations.

"I had this idea in fifth year," Sirius began excitedly, thrilled as he always was that someone was taking interest in his idea, "that before I died I'd make my friends write a song about the greatness of me. I'd lay there at my deathbed, supervising, of course. James could write the words because he's got a way with poetry—"

James flushed pink. "I do _not _have a _way_ with poetry," he hissed.

"_That's_ a lie," Sirius said cheerfully. "On your two-year dating anniversary you wrote Lily a song. I _know _you can write me a song. You've known me longer and everyone knows you love me more. You have brilliant material. Anyway, Wormtail can write the music 'cause he plays the xylophone—"

"The _xylophone_?" Hestia asked, amused.

"You can't make fun of it in front of him, though," Remus warned. "Peter's very…" He searched for the correct word to describe Peter's feelings towards his instrument, "_touchy _about the xylophone."

"He'll smack you if you tell him the xylophone is the lamest instrument ever," Sirius agreed. "And the boy's got a surprisingly strong backhand. _Anyway, _once Wormtail writes the music and Prongs writes the words, they'll distribute it to people at the funeral. And then, just as they're lowering my casket into the ground, everyone will start singing it—crying at the same time, producing a mellow, haunting sound—and Moony will release a cage of doves." He sighed. "It will be beautiful."

"But if everyone's drunk at your funeral," Remus pointed out, "I don't think they'll be able to sing very much."

"On the contrary," Sirius corrected brightly, "I myself have an atrocious singing voice, everyone knows that. But when I'm drunk, I have the same exact voice as Timmy Balton. It's extraordinary, really."

"And Timmy Balton would be?" Hestia questioned.

"Lead singer of the Spatulas," James offered. "Sirius's favorite band."

"Oh," Hestia said, unsure of what she should say to this. "What a…commendable talent."

* * *

Peter sat at the kitchen table, staring up at the clock above the calendar. It was 9:38. His initiation was at 11:30.

"Peter, dear," his mother said, entering the room with today's—censored—paper and a quill, "are you sure you wouldn't like some dinner? I think I've got some lamb in the pantry."

Oh, no. Food would be a definite mistake. He shook his head wordlessly as his mother sat down at the table across from him.

"Are you sick, dear?" she asked him. "You've hardly eaten all day."

Peter shook his head again and cleared his throat. "I'm just not hungry, Mum," he said, his voice coming out low and scratchy.

Peter's mother surveyed him carefully as she unfolded her paper, spreading it open to the page with the crossword puzzle. "This puzzle's a tricky one," she smiled. "What's a seven letter word for a lie under oath, dear?"

"Perjury," Peter replied absently, scratching at his head as he tried to suppress the contents of his stomach.

Mrs. Pettigrew beamed at him. "You're getting very good," she complimented him as she wrote down his answer. "It fits perfectly."

This broke his heart.

He bit his lip, watching her as she tried to work out a three-letter word for 'fruit or cream filled pastry' (which, of course, was 'pie'). He didn't know if he could do this to her.

But then he knew that he couldn't not.

If Peter refused to join the Death Eaters after all this time and pretend commitment, they would kill him.

But they would kill his family and his friends first.

And he couldn't do that to them. Peter couldn't let his mother and Sirius and Remus and James and Lily die just because he was a coward and because he couldn't go through with…being evil.

But Peter also had morals (of sorts) and he knew the difference between right and wrong (kinda) and he knew that what he was doing fell under the 'wrong' category….

Peter was twenty years old.

And he didn't really want to die.

He folded his arms on the table and dropped his head into them.

* * *

The ceremony started.

The church was full to the bursting. James, Lily, Sirius, Hestia, and Remus managed to sit on a bench with four other people and were pretty much sitting on top of each other.

The casket sat at the front of the room, topped with a spray of white flowers and surrounded by photographs of Gideon and his friends and family. Lily kept her eyes glued to these pictures as Dumbledore spoke in a soft, even voice about the courage that Gideon displayed, how he tried to protect his family, and what a wonderful person he was.

A little less than halfway through, silent tears started to slide down Lily's face. James, noticing, slid his hand into hers, but he didn't say anything.

What _could _he say?

When Dumbledore finished speaking, everyone stood and talked to each other in low voices. People hugged and shook hands and muttered condolences. Lily went straight to the casket, examining the pictures as James, Sirius, Remus, and Hestia talked amongst themselves.

After a few minutes, James went up to join her. He put a hand on the small of her back and she turned briefly to look at him before looking back to the pictures.

"That was his first girlfriend," she said softly, pointing to a picture of a much younger Prewett, blonde hair hanging in his eyes and the widest smile James had ever seen on him, with his arm around a girl with dark hair and serious gray eyes. The two of them waved up at James and Lily, beaming and laughing. "Her name was Nora. They were both fourteen and they dated for seven months before she was killed." She glanced up at James. "That's what made him decide he wanted to be an Auror. He said he couldn't stand for good, nice people like Nora to be killed for no reason other than their heritage."

"That's the reason most people go into the field," James acknowledged.

Lily nodded. She seemed to be thinking very hard; she was quiet and her eyes were clouded over.

"Are you okay?" James asked her softly.

"Yeah," she responded. "I'll be all right."

"Ready to go home?"

She nodded again, slowly. "I'd like that a lot."

* * *

It was eleven.

Peter was trembling all over. He was having difficulty breathing and his head was thick with thoughts of his mother and misty green skulls with snakes slipping out of the mouth and Lucius Malfoy sneering, saying it won't hurt a bit, Pettigrew, and James laughing so hard when Peter told a particularly good joke that he fell over on his bed at school and Sirius frowning over the chess board and hooded cloaks and Lily helping him with his Potions homework because he didn't understand chemical reactions and knives sharpened with spells and transformations at full moons…

He started to cry a little. He was still sitting at the kitchen table, a cup of coffee in front of him that he'd made an hour ago in an attempt to calm his nerves and stay awake. Peter's mother had gone to bed an hour ago, and he tried to sob quietly, so as not to wake her up.

He imagined the day he'd been approached by Nott, a boy who had graduated four years before Peter, approached him in the alleyway two blocks from Peter's house.

_He wore a hooded cloak so Peter couldn't see his face but Peter remembered his voice because on his third day of school Nott and a bunch of his friends thought it would be funny to levitate him above the lake. Peter was deathly afraid of deep water, and he screamed at them to let him down until his voice was hoarse and his throat dry and scratchy and sore and Nott just laughed and said, "Oh, but the fun has just started, boy." _

_And then James and Sirius had come and yelled at the bullies until Nott's concentration broke and he dropped Peter in the water._

_Peter was terrified, but Sirius came in and got him and Peter stammered out his thanks and Sirius grinned and said, "It's no problem, I am an excellent swimmer."_

_So when Nott's voice emanated from that hood, Peter unintentionally started to shiver again, picturing the freezing cold water surrounding him and Sirius's calls of "I'm coming, don't drown."_

_But Nott only asked him if he had heard of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and Peter nodded because everyone had heard of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and Nott said that it had come to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's attention that Peter was a member of Dumbledore's Order._

_And Peter immediately thought he was going to die._

_But then Nott sneered, "We've got a proposition for you, Pettigrew."_

Peter shuddered now and glanced at the clock.

11:16.

He would be late if he didn't leave now.

* * *

A/N: Not my favorite chapter by far, but it's kind of a connecting chapter…and you can't expect much of those.

I apologize for the lack of spacing in the last chapter; it wasn't intentional (I'm not daft; I'm not going to give you a bunch of scenes with no way to tell where one ends and another begins—on purpose, anyway) but ff.net seems to enjoy messing with my spacing.

It only took me six days to get this chapter out. That's a vast improvement over a month or two, don't you think? :) Oh, the joys of summer vacation.

Review please, I love them so much. The feedback for all my stuff has been overwhelmingly fantastic, and I get the hugest smile on my face when I read my reviews and I start talking to the computer. It's fun.


	17. Serious Conversations

Tripping Down the Aisle 

Chapter Seventeen: Serious Conversations 

* * *

_Monday, 24 May _

_One month_

* * *

Work was boring him.

James had not been an Auror that long, and as such got stuck with paperwork a lot of the time.

Today was one of those times.

He'd been doing nothing but paperwork for—he checked his watch—five hours and was pretty sure he'd go insane if he had to see Alec Denneham's handwriting one more time.

James pushed some of his straggly hair out of his eyes and forced himself to keep reading. This could be very important, he told himself. The world might need to know about Denneham's suspicions that the Death Eaters were working out of a Muggle toy shop.

It was rubbish, of course.

But then everyone in the Department thought Denneham was a little touched in the head, so it wasn't _really _his fault.

James signed his name at the bottom of the page and shuffled the pages on his desk. He was about to pick up another paper when he heard Lily's voice, greeting his coworkers and politely answering questions. So unlike her, he thought, smiling idly and leaning out of his cubicle. She spotted him watching her and dashed toward him, positively beaming and carrying something.

"Aren't you just a bright little ray of sunshine?" he said as she reached him. She was wringing her hands and biting her lip and pretty much shaking with excitement. "What's wrong with you?"

"Come on," Lily said, reaching out and grabbing his hand. "We're going to lunch."

"What?"

"We're going to lunch," she repeated, pulling on his hand in an attempt to get him to stand up. "Come _on_, you and I have to talk."

"What--?"

"I'll _tell_ you when we _get_ there," Lily said, and James could tell she was getting a little exasperated. "Let's go."

James glanced at his desk, at the stack of horrendously boring paperwork that awaited him…and then he looked up at Lily, who looked like she could explode from enthusiasm. He compared the two in his head. Lily….paperwork. Girlfriend…papercuts. Snogging…reading. Food…writing.

"All right," he said, rising. "Let's go."

* * *

Hestia, Remus was noticing, had a fixation with his hair.

She was always touching it in some way; brushing it out of his eyes, twirling it around her fingers, running her hands through it. It didn't bother him or anything; it was just something he noticed. She said that he had the best hair she'd ever seen. She loved the color, she said, and the way it felt and the way it smelled and the way it curled a little at the ends because it was getting too long. He mentioned offhandedly one day when he was lying on his back on her couch with his head on her lap and she was absentmindedly combing it with her fingers that he was thinking of getting a haircut and she gasped and said that if he cut his hair she wouldn't speak to him for a very long time. Remus asked, "Well, how long exactly?"

Hestia responded, "It depends on how nice the new haircut is."

"So you're agreeing there will be a new haircut."

"There will be no haircut," she corrected herself. "I love your hair. Cutting it off would be like cutting my heart out."

"That's why you're with me, isn't it?" Remus teased, angling his head so he could meet her eyes. "Just so you can play with my hair?"

She grinned. "It helps," she allowed.

It worried Remus that he was getting so used to this.

It didn't really bother him anymore that he was keeping a secret from all of his friends, that there was this insanely huge part of his life that he didn't really care to share with them. His friends couldn't keep secrets to save their lives, he knew that. Sirius simply liked to talk, and if that meant telling you his entire life story, so be it. James just got excited really easily, and when he did, he'd prattle on for hours. Peter was always anxious to have something to offer in a conversation so he would feel important because Peter had a small inferiority complex.

But Remus was content to sit back and listen and only spoke up if he really felt the need to.

Privacy was kinda nice. He liked not being interrogated about his girlfriend the way Sirius questioned James. Even after four years, Lily was one of Sirius's favorite topics, mostly because she was an easy target for the jokes and sexual comments that Sirius was famous for. James could take it all in stride. He could smile and laugh it off, but Remus didn't know if he could. He was already getting protective of Hestia, and he didn't think he'd appreciate Sirius making fun of her very much.

But then Remus remembered that making fun of their relationship would be the very last thing on Sirius's mind if he found out about it.

He winced.

"Are you hungry?" Hestia was asking. "I can make sandwiches or something. If you're hungry, that is."

Remus shook his head. "No, I'm not hungry." He yawned and sat up, unconsciously smoothing his hair. "Actually, I should be getting back."

"Back?" Hestia echoed. "Back where?"

"Well, back home," he told her. "I've been here for four hours."

She looked down at her lap and said softly, "And if Sirius can't get a hold of you at any given time, he'll get suspicious." She glanced back up at him expectantly.

He sighed and let his head drop. "That's not fair," he said evenly.

"Maybe not," Hestia replied. "But it's true, isn't it?"

"Not entirely."

"So you're tired of being around me."

He looked at her incredulously. "Tired of being _around _you?" he repeated. "How could I get tired of being _around _you?"

She tossed her hair once. "I've been told that I have an extremely trying personality, so I could see it."

Remus put his hand on the back of her neck and gently pulled her face to his, kissing her for a few moments before pulling away. He rested his forehead against hers and murmured, "I do not get tired of being around you."

She nodded once and ducked out of his grip. "Listen," Hestia said, playing with the fabric of his jeans, "I have something to tell you."

He said, "Okay."

"Remember," Hestia began, still looking down at his leg, "the day when I…when I told you how I felt about you?"

He did. A lot. "Yeah."

"Remember how I said I had a meeting…with Dumbledore?"

Remus vaguely recalled this. "Yes, I remember."

Hestia mumbled something unintelligible.

He asked her to repeat it.

She mumbled again, but it was still incomprehensible.

He asked again.

"He asked me…to join the Order," she said softly.

Remus paused. "Oh," he said awkwardly.

She nodded, abandoning his pants and starting in on the hem of his shirt. "He said that I showed dedication to the cause." She chuckled darkly. "I didn't know it was a _cause_. Like it's a charity or something. Anyway, he gave me time to think it over…and I did, for about a month and a half. Last week, I sent him an owl saying 'yes'." She finally looked up at him and tried to laugh. " And now that I've done it I'm kinda scared."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Remus bit his lip. "There's no reason to be scared."

Hestia stared at him disbelievingly. "Remus, are you aware _at all _about what's been going on lately?"

"Well, okay, there's a lot to be scared of," he corrected. "But…there are great people in the Order, all right? There's, er, there's Aurors. We've got the greatest Aurors in the country. We've got librarians. We've got people like Lily, who are too smart for their own good. We've got people like Sirius who can think fast and talk faster. We've got…we've got strong people, we've got people who have been studying magic and its origins longer than I've been alive, we've got construction people building safe houses all over the continent, we've got _fashion designers, _Hestia, who are working on camouflaging robes! And we've got Dumbledore," he added, almost as an afterthought. "And that says enough, you know?"

She nodded a little.

"And all of those people," Remus continued, "_all _of those people will put their lives on the line for you now."

"They don't know me," Hestia said.

"They don't care," Remus told her. "You're one of them now, and that's all they care about."

She smiled, pressing her lips together. "Do they give you that speech on your first day or something?"

He smiled, too. "Oh, but it's _such _a lovely speech."

* * *

Once James and Lily were seated at one of the Muggle restaurants located around the Ministry (many Ministry workers ate there simply for the convenience and the waiters didn't even notice the strange clothing anymore) and had plates of sandwiches in front of them, James asked, "Okay, what's going on."

Lily grinned. "I finished it," she whispered conspiratorially.

James was confused. "Finished what?"

"That horrendous seating chart that woman is making us do," Lily reported proudly, pulling a manila folder out of her bag. Ever since Gideon's funeral, she had been referring to Adeline simply as 'that woman', usually scowling as she did. She pushed the folder across the table to him and he took out a diagram of little round tables with names and numbers next to them. "See, I've color-coded it," she said excitedly, taking the diagram from him and pointing. "The blue is your family. The purple is mine."

"What about these little stars?" James asked, motioning.

"Those," she said, "represent magical…ness. See, I tried to put wizards with wizards and Muggles with Muggles, but I'm wondering if that counts as discrimination?"

James glanced at her, trying not to laugh. "No, Lily," he said flatly. "That does not count as discrimination."

She looked down at her sandwich and poked it absently. "It's getting so close," she said softly.

"Discrimination?"

Lily looked up at him again. "The wedding," she told him, returning her attention to her sandwich. "It's in a month. The seating chart was the last thing I had to do. We're done planning. We just have to wait now."

_It's that close? _"Yeah," he mumbled.

"It's scary," Lily continued. "This time next month, we'll be _married_."

"Yeah," he said again, for a lack of anything better.

Lily swirled her water around with her straw. "I can't believe it's already here," she sighed.

"I know."

* * *

"I still cannot believe you're getting married," Sirius said, elbowing James. "Who would've thought? You. Getting married."

James rubbed his temples. "I know," he replied, for what seemed like the seven thousandth time that day.

"I mean," Sirius continued, "it's insane."

"Yeah."

"It defies all logic."

"Right."

"I mean, if anyone told me when we were eighteen and you'd just gotten together with Lily that you'd be _marrying _her—"

"You'd've said that they were crazy?" James supplied dully. He hated that saying: 'If someone told me this and that, I'd've said they were crazy'. It was dumb and overused, and it just irked him.

"No," Sirius said. "I'd've killed them." He smiled at his friend, who flashed a half-hearted smile back. "Can't have madmen like that walking the streets."

Sirius had come by for dinner. The meal was over now, and he and James had gone outside for a glass of wine and some conversation while Lily had a bath. It was dark and pleasantly cool outside, and from the steps of the porch where the two of them were sitting they could see the family across the street eating dinner in the window.

"Yeah," James mumbled, looking down at his shoes. "I still can't believe it. I'm going to be someone's husband, you know?"

"It is a difficult concept to grasp."

"Right."

They were both quiet for about a minute or two, the only sound coming from one of them taking a sip of wine and replacing the glass on the step. Sirius broke the silence, staring at the family across the street as he said, "It's not really that different, though."

James turned his head to look at him, but Sirius still stared straight ahead.

"I mean, you and Lily have been together for a really long time," he said. "There's people who didn't even know you when you weren't with her, and the same goes for her. I mean, yeah, you guys break up every once in a while because you're both stubborn and temperamental, but you've never been apart for more than, what, a month?"

"Try four," James corrected quietly.

A short, harsh sort of smile crossed Sirius's face. "Yeah. Four. My point is, though, that you two always come back to each other. You remember those four months?"

James scratched absently at a stain on his knee. "'Course I remember."

"You were miserable."

"Well, I'd been stupid," James replied. "I'd been stupid and I kinda hated myself for it."

Sirius nodded, but still didn't look at his friend. "Yeah, you'd been stupid. And remember, Lily stayed at Remus's because she was afraid of what her parents would say and Remus said she cried herself to sleep every night? And you cried for the first time since you were nine?"

"I remember, Padfoot," James said, gently telling him to back off the subject.

But Sirius wouldn't let it go. "You'd made a stupid mistake, Prongs," he continued, "and she took you back."

"Yeah, she did."

Sirius paused, watching as the family across the street cleared the table and closed the curtains. "There aren't too many girls who would do that, Prongs."

"I know."

"_I _didn't even like you very much during those four months," Sirius said. "And Lily took you back."

No one had talked about what James had done in about two and a half years, and even someone alluding to it always made him feel sick to his stomach. "Yeah," James said. "She did."

"You know why?"

James felt very young all of a sudden, like he was in trouble and Sirius was his mother asking him to go sit in the corner and think about what he'd done. He didn't respond, because he sorta felt like Sirius didn't really want him too.

"Because she loves you," Sirius said, proving him right. "You know? You did the stupidest thing in the world, and she still loved you for it."

"I really don't think she loved me for it," James answered flatly.

"Well, she loves you in spite of it, then," Sirius said, annoyed that James had contradicted him. "You're my best friend, Prongs, and you have been for about fifteen years now, but God, I hated you a little bit for doing that to a girl."

"Why are we talking about this right now?" James asked. He was starting to feel like he might throw up, and it was not a nice feeling. "I thought we exhausted this topic when it _happened_."

Sirius finally looked at him. "Because," he said, "I want you to understand how insanely lucky you are. I want you to get that a million other people would _kill _to be you right now."

James forced himself to stare Sirius right in the eyes. "I do," he told his best friend. "I do get all that."

"Do you really?" Sirius said, his tone misleadingly light.

"Yeah, I do."

"Then why did you do it?"

James had to look away. "I was nineteen, okay?" he said quietly.

"So was Lily. And you didn't see her—"

"I was _scared_," James interrupted. "I knew all this stuff that you're telling me. I realized that I was probably going to marry this girl, and I didn't—I didn't know if I was ready for all of that. I'd said I loved her, and I did, and she'd lost her virginity to me, you know, and she was living with me and I'd met her parents and my family loved her, and…I didn't know if I was really ready to be an adult yet." He ruffled his hair absently. "It was different than what I had imagined it to be when I was fifteen and just staring at her in class."

Sirius didn't know what to say to all of that, so he just stared as James rambled on.

"I got a crush on her when I was fifteen, and it was easy then. I imagined kissing her, I imagined sleeping with her, I imagined her telling me that she loved me and me being able to say it back without…without even thinking about it. And then all of a sudden I _had _her. She was real. I could touch her whenever I wanted and she wouldn't yell at me. I could kiss her and she would kiss back and she would take my glasses off for me because I'd forget and they'd get in the way and she would put her hands in my hair. And it was great, you know, I'm not saying that it wasn't." He paused and stared across the street, where all the lights had been turned off and all the curtains drawn. "But it was definitely different. It wasn't just kissing and sex and 'I love you's. There was fighting and she yelled at me and I yelled back and I punched holes in walls to keep myself from hitting her because she made me so angry and she threw things at me and…" James sighed and took his glasses off, rubbing his eyes before replacing them.

"I've broken my hand four times," he said. "There were times when I couldn't even remember what my own bedroom looked like because I hadn't slept there for so long. The point is, Padfoot; that it was all well and good when I was just imagining what being with her _might _be like. I didn't take into account the fact that I can be stupid sometimes and so can she. I didn't think that she could make mistakes, because in my mind, she was perfect. But she did make mistakes. And I did, too."

"Yours were just a little bigger than hers," Sirius finally said.

James glanced up at him. "Not all of them," he replied lightly. "Lily's screwed up pretty badly, don't let her fool you. But the mistake you're talking about…yeah, that one probably tops the list. But she's made mistakes of her own, I've made mistakes of my own, and we've made some big ones together. There's stuff that you and Moony and Wormtail don't know about. There's stuff her friends don't know about. And all of those mistakes and arguments just got to be too much for me. We'd been together for going on two years, Padfoot, pretty much without a break. You're asking me if I loved her, yeah, I did. You're asking me if I was _in _love with her, yeah, I was. My mother was asking me when I was planning on marrying her, and Lily's mum was dropping hints whenever I saw her. I just…developed a little case of commitment phobia. Sort of."

"Prongs, you've been pro-commitment since the age of eight."

"I _know_," James said impatiently. "You're not listening to me. I'd never been in a serious relationship like this before. I wasn't sure if it was supposed to be like that. I wasn't sure if I was _supposed _to hate my girlfriend one minute and then be ripping her skirt off the next. I'd never even _heard _about relationships like that before. All my friends who were in relationships had nice girlfriends who didn't raise their voices _ever. _They all had girlfriends who cooked and always remembered to pay bills and were always on time for everything. So I thought, yeah, what if I marry Lily and I realize that it's _not _supposed to be like that? What if I've just been wasting these past two years when I could be going out and finding someone better?"

Sirius picked up his empty wine glass and turned it over in his hands. "Why didn't you tell her?"

James emitted a bitter laugh. "And break her heart?"

"Yeah, well, what you did instead didn't help with that," Sirius returned harshly. "You could've told me. You could've told Remus or Peter or anyone aside from a girl you met in a bar."

"I _know _that!" James exclaimed, the sudden raise of his voice making Sirius jump. "I know that now, okay? I don't even know why you had to bring this up the _month _before my wedding. I know that I was wrong. That's why I'm never going to _do _it again! You're acting like this is something Lily and I have never discussed, something she doesn't even know about."

"I'm sorry," Sirius said quickly. "I am. I just…" He trailed off, James staring at him, waiting for him to finish the sentence. "I don't even know."

They sat in silence for a few minutes before Sirius asked softly, "Was it really hard?"

James glanced at him. "What?"

"The four months. I…I hardly saw you, so I don't really know."

James stared into space, nodding slowly. "I was so mad at myself. I didn't know what the hell I was doing; it's a miracle I didn't fail out of Auror training. I was in a daze until the night she came home."

Sirius nodded a little and let a few more moments of silence pass. "Do you talk about it much?"

"What?"

"The…messing around. Do you talk about it much with Lily?"

James shook his head. "She only brings it up when she gets really, really mad and wants something to throw in my face. Which means we've only talked about it twice in two years. With the Gideon Prewett thing…when I was jealous…it was because I knew it could happen. And she knew that, but she never brought it up."

"It could've happened even if you hadn't—"

"Yeah, but it's like when a murderer has a kid, isn't it?"

Sirius paused. James did this a lot; he made analogies that made absolutely no sense. But the good thing about it was that James knew this about himself and usually explained.

And he did now. "When a murderer has a kid, that kid is a lot more likely to commit a murder." James raked a hand through his hair again. "I made the relationship that much weaker, I made her less likely to trust me. It took her a year before she trusted me again, I mean, _really _trusted me." He shook his head. "It should've taken longer. So Padfoot, to answer your much, much earlier question…do I realize how lucky I am?" He stared his best friend in the eye. "You have no idea how many times I just sit there and watch her sleep or read or talk and think that I don't deserve her. And I don't. We joke about it, but I honestly have no idea what she's doing still hanging around. Which is why I'm positively terrified that I'm going to be standing up there at that aisle for hours and she'll have disappeared."

Sirius touched James's shoulder. "It won't happen like that," he said quietly.

"It's entirely possible."

"It's possible," Sirius acknowledged. "But it won't happen."

James sighed. "Whatever you say, Sirius."

* * *

A/N: Angsty!James. Wasn't that fun?

Kinda draining for me to write, kinda melodramatic and soap-operaish but I actually enjoyed writing it a lot, but I'm extreme nervous as to what you all will think about it. I always sort of had the idea in the back of my head that there had to be something huge that happened to make them almost break up for real…several ideas came up, but this one, while arguably the most unoriginal, seemed to fit to me.

As for why Lily took him back when he committed _the ultimate evil_, she had her reasons. ;) None of which I'm going to go into right now, because I'm considering writing a ficlet based on the James/Sirius conversation and that would just ruin it.

I don't know. I really like that scene, though I apologize for the excessive dialogue. Lots of fun.

However…

The next chapter will be more fun. :)

I won't give away much, but…I'll just give you the title of the chapter and see what you can make of it.

Chapter eighteen is called "The Bachelor Party".

See you soon!


	18. The Bachelor Party

Tripping Down the Aisle 

Chapter Eighteen: The Bachelor Party 

**A Quick Note: **This chapter involves a strip club. If you are in any way offended by strip clubs, strippers, and frilly pink drinks, you may want to skip this……

No one?

All right. Enjoy the show. :)

* * *

_Wednesday, 21 June _

_Three days_

* * *

"You know, you're going to have to get out of the house."

James glanced up from his paperwork to see Lily standing in the doorway, hands on her hips and looking expectant.

"What?" he asked, confused.

Lily entered the room and magicked herself a chair so she could sit in front of the desk. It made James feel very important, like he was a person in power at some sort of office and Lily was a drone that worked under him. Interesting. "Emily and Charlotte are coming in less than three hours," Lily said. "You can't be here."

"Why not? I know Charlotte and Emily. They like me."

"Yes," Lily said patiently. "Yes, they adore you, love. But that's not the point."

"You're right. The point is, it's my house, for all intents and purposes. I don't have to get out of it."

Lily leaned back in her chair and folded her arms across her chest. "When is your bachelor party?"

James tapped the quill he was writing with against his cheek as he thought. "Tonight."

"I know. What _time_?"

"Oh." He thought some more. "I think Sirius said he'd come to get me at nine."

Lily stood, preparing to exit the room. "Fine," she said. "You'll have to listen to Emily talk about backpacking through Europe and Charlotte about having sex on a film set until then."

James made a face. "You know, I don't really want to hear about your friends' sexual exploits."

"I know you don't. As such, I was doing you a favor."

"By throwing me out of my own house?"

Lily reached the doorway and tossed her hair so that it fell in her face, brushing against her eyelashes. She raised her voice in an imitation of Charlotte's and leaned against the doorway, twirling her hair around her finger. She began in a breathy, but Charlotte-like voice, "'Lily, it was _amazing…_the heat of the lights and the whirring of the fans….'"

James yelled loudly and clasped his hands over his ears.

She rolled her eyes, dropping the act. "You are so immature."

"Yeah, _I'm _immature."

Lily waited for him to make a point, and when he didn't, she replied, "That's what I said."

"Fine," James grumbled, returning to his papers. "I'll…go to Remus's or something."

She smiled and crossed the room to kiss him quickly. "Thank you," she cooed, locking her arms around his neck and kissing his cheek.

"Thank Charlotte. Although I hope you know that whenever I look at her that sentence will pop into my head."

Lily smirked, resting her chin on his shoulder as he wrote. "She'll enjoy that. She always thought you attractive."

* * *

Emily arrived first, luckily enough for James. Her hair was longer and she wore it in a single untidy plait hanging down her back. She carried a single linen suitcase and was very brown, undoubtedly a result of walking around in the sun for hours at a time. She greeted Lily with a hug and a shrill squeal that James was sure only dogs could hear.

When she finished hugging Lily, she turned to him with a wide smile on her face. "James Potter," she said, positively beaming. "You certainly have grown up."

"Not really," he told her. "I'm still a bit of a prat."

Emily laughed and pulled him into a quick hug. "Getting married, though!" she exclaimed. "To my friend Lily! God, never in a thousand years would I have expected it from you."

"You and my mother both," he agreed, smiling. "And just about everyone else I've ever met."

Emily stepped back, grinning. "Do you at least know my name now?"

He cringed. Ah, so she knew about the whole not being able to tell them apart thing. "I've gotten better. I bet you and your sister look a lot more different than you did four years ago."

"That is true," she acknowledged. "Charlotte's got herself that movie star boyfriend, did Lily tell you?"

"Yes," Lily said. "He's very jealous that Charlotte might have a boyfriend who has more money and fame than he does."

"Hey," James said. "That's not true."

"You get the Muggle newspapers when one of his movies comes out so you can see how it did."

James pretended to be annoyed. "That's called support, Lily."

Lily grinned. "Don't you have somewhere to be? A bachelor party to attend?"

"Not for another hour and a half, thank you. Besides, I'd like to see Charlotte."

"She'll just die when she sees you, that's for sure," Emily broke in.

James's chest swelled with pride.

Lily rolled her eyes, still smiling. "Emily, do you want some tea, water, coffee? I think we've got some pumpkin juice around here somewhere…"

"No, we don't."

"Oh. Then tea, water, coffee?"

"Water would be great, actually."

Lily headed into the kitchen, talking the whole way. "So, how was Spain?" she called from the sink.

Emily lowered herself onto the couch, clasping her hands together and resting them on her knees. "It was fantastic."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Insanely hot, but there you are." Lily entered the room carrying a glass filled with water, which she handed to Emily before sitting down next to her. "Where are you and James going for your honeymoon?"

"Greece," James answered for her. "Lily loves the history."

They chatted idly for a few more minutes before a 'crack' sound could be heard just outside the door. "Oh, there's Charlotte!" Lily exclaimed happily, leaping up from her seat as the doorbell rang. She threw the door open and there stood Charlotte, all red lipstick and tightly set curls.

"Hi!" Charlotte shrieked, throwing her arms around Lily.

"Hello!" Lily cried back.

When the two of them pulled apart, they started babbling to each other so quickly that James could not quite discern exactly what they were talking about—or whether or not they were speaking English. He was pretty sure he heard the words 'hair' and 'thin' and 'marry' and 'dress' and 'James'. At his name, the conversation sort of stopped and they both turned to look at him.

He immediately felt like a giant spotlight had been shined on him. "Hi, Charlotte," he said uncertainly.

"Well," Charlotte replied. "Stand up, I want to see how tall you are now."

James complied, feeling very much like he was twelve and being interrogated by a great-aunt or something.

"God," Charlotte sighed. "How tall are you? 6'1"? More? Cameron"—that was the name of her boyfriend—"is only 5'9" so I can't wear heels that are too tall or I'll absolutely dwarf him, and you know that doesn't look good in pictures."

"He's 6'2"," Lily told her friend.

James did not know why they were talking about him in this sense, and he was pretty sure he should leave. "Well," he said, clapping his hands together. "I'd better be going. I have a bachelor party I should be getting to."

"A bachelor party?" Charlotte inquired wickedly. "You're not going to hang around with us tonight?"

Was she asking him to have an orgy or something? "No," he replied uncomfortably. "I'm, uh, going to hang out with strippers. Get smashed. Stuff money in lingerie, you know." He flashed a grin. "Just like every other night."

"All right," Charlotte sighed, batting her eyelashes coquettishly. "We'll miss you."

James stared at her for a full thirty seconds. Was she harboring some kind of crush on him? James had heard of stranger things than girls falling madly in love with him and never being able to get over it. Or was Charlotte just joking, messing around with him, trying to give him a heart attack three days before his wedding? "Uh-_huh_," he said slowly. "Right. Well. I'll see—see you guys later, all right? Lily, can I see you for a second?"

Lily crossed the room to him and he pulled her into the hallway and kissed her. When she pulled away she said, "Are you okay?" She brushed some of his hair out of his face.

"I'm fine," he told her. "I'm going to my bachelor party, I'm fantastic."

Lily grinned. "Yes, of course." She kissed him again, then said, "I love you."

"I love you," he returned, pulling her to him. "I really feel like I'm going to miss you," he added.

"You're going to miss me?" she smiled. "You'll only be gone for the night. I'll see you tomorrow afternoon."

"Yeah, well," he mumbled into her hair. He sighed and reluctantly pulled himself from her. "I'm going to go look at a bunch of naked women, dancing for my pleasure."

Lily smiled. "Have fun."

"Like you even have to tell me?"

"But not _too _much fun," she added.

James gasped. "Oh, my dear Lily, there is no such thing."

She laughed and stood on her tiptoes to kiss him again. When she broke away, she sighed and said, "Oh, no."

"What?"

"I think I'm going to miss you, as well."

"We're incredibly sad, aren't we?"

"We definitely need to get out more."

She smiled and said, "All right, I'll see you later."

James grinned and waved at her before Apparating.

* * *

When James arrived at Remus's flat, Sirius was already there, drinking a firewhiskey and examining himself in a dusty little hand mirror that Remus had found for him.

"Got to make myself look presentable for the ladies," he grinned at James. "Apparently, my reputation precedes me."

"What?" James asked, confused, as he sank into one of the moth-eaten chairs in Moony's living room.

Remus rolled his eyes from his seat next to Sirius on the sofa. "Sirius made reservations at a…strip club and the girl taking down the information screamed when he told her his name."

James snickered disbelievingly. "I don't think so."

Sirius nodded, shaking his head so that some hair fell into his eyes. He ran his fingers through it, teasing it as he spoke, "She did, Prongs. 'Course, I don't expect _you_ to know what that kind of scream sounds like, but_ I _have heard it countless times, and there is no mistaking it." He frowned into the mirror and looked up at his friends. "Does my hair look all right like this?"

Slightly sour from Sirius's previous comment, James dismissively responded, "You look like a pouf."

Sirius grinned. "Thank you, but I don't think I'm going to keep it like this." He returned to the mirror and threw his head back, shaking it so that when he put his head right again his hair was interestingly arranged.

Remus shook his head slightly and turned to James, who was leaning over in his chair, examining something on the floor. "What are you looking at, Bachelor?" Remus asked him.

James plucked something shiny off the ground and held it up to the light. "What looks like an earring," he replied, looking at Remus quizzically. "Since when do you wear earrings?"

An odd, closed expression came over Remus's face. He recognized the earring, of course; Hestia had lost it the night before, during a particularly heated…encounter. "I don't," Remus responded, his voice strangled.

Sirius put down the mirror and reached over and took the earring from James. "Are you sure?" Sirius asked, smirking. "'Cause this looks a lot like an earring. And it was under _your _coffee table. Incriminating evidence, I think."

"I concur," James agreed.

Remus snatched the earring from Sirius, trying not to blush. "It's a cufflink," he snapped.

James and Sirius exchanged curiously surprised glances. They both knew it was an earring; no cufflinks were this small. "Since when do you wear cufflinks?" James asked.

"Since you decided to get married," Remus replied coolly. "I'm wearing them to the wedding on Saturday."

"Okay," Sirius said slowly. "But since when do you wear diamond cufflinks? No offense or anything, Moony, but I don't think diamond cufflinks are really included in your budget."

"They're heirlooms," Remus said. "My father's."

James and Sirius glanced at each other again. "All right," James said. "Then what was it doing under your coffee table?"

"And where's the other one?" Sirius added.

Remus chose to ignore these questions. "I'm going to go put this away," he announced, rising quickly from the sofa and heading down the short hall to his bedroom.

Sirius turned to James. "Think there's something he's not telling us?" he asked, almost rhetorically.

"Maybe he's having a midlife crisis," James suggested, reaching over to take a sip of Sirius's firewhiskey.

"At twenty?"

James shrugged, replacing the bottle and leaning back in his chair. "Stranger things have happened."

Sirius picked up the mirror again. "Speaking of midlife crisis…es…crisis's?"

"Crises," James supplied.

"Yes, that—where's Wormtail?"

"Late, I expect," Remus replied, emerging from the hallway and returning to his spot on the sofa. "He said he might be when I talked to him yesterday."

"What's his reason _this _time?" Sirius questioned, finally deciding that his hair looked acceptable and setting down the mirror. "A date? One of those mysterious 'previous engagements'? Is he ill, hungover, what?"

Remus shrugged. "I dunno," he answered. "He didn't say. Just said, 'Oh, hey, I might be late'. We didn't get to talk much."

"Where did you see him?"

"At the Three Broomsticks last night," Remus replied. "I was there to pick up—" He broke off, flushing immediately. He had been there, of course, to meet Hestia for a drink before going to his place, but of course he couldn't say that.

"A girl?" Sirius supplied deftly. "A girl who left her earring here?"

"Moony, you dog," James smirked.

Remus was flushing brilliantly. Admitting that there _was _a girl wouldn't do any harm, he told himself. He would just say he preferred not to talk about her… "Yeah," he said. "A girl."

Sirius and James started to make immature howling noises when they were interrupted by a crack, signaling Peter's arrival.

"Am I missing something?" Peter asked, dusting himself off for no apparent reason as he lowered himself into the other chair across from James's. "Happy…bachelor day," he added to James. "What do we call this, anyway?"

"Just call it 'happy three days before your wedding' and leave it at that," Remus said quickly, hoping that this interruption would be sufficient enough to distract James and Sirius from their new discovery.

No such luck. "You are missing something indeed, Peter," James said jovially. "Remus here's got a girl."

"Oh, yeah," Peter said, nodding. "The one from the pub."

Remus could've fallen over. He was _positive _that Peter had left before Hestia showed up. Admittedly, Peter had never been introduced to Hestia, so he didn't know who she was, really, but if he described her, Sirius would figure it out and James would spend his bachelor party digging Remus's grave. Oh, God.

"You saw her, then?" Sirius said delightedly.

Remus caught Peter's eye and shook his head a fraction of an inch on either side, trying to make his eyes send a message of impending doom Peter's way.

Peter got the message. "Not really," he lied. "I left when she got there."

"But you saw her," James pressed.

"It—it was dark," Peter said. "I didn't—I didn't get a good look at her."

"But you got a look at her," James kept on.

"Look," Peter said wearily, "if Remus doesn't want to talk about it, then I don't either, okay?"

Sirius shook his head, smiling. "You know what, Wormtail, that's your problem. You're just too loyal to your friends, you never let us have any fun."

A strange expression that none of them could read washed over Peter's face. "Yeah," he said darkly. "_That's _my problem."

"Well, maybe not _your_ problem," James acknowledged. "But _our _problem."

_Oh, the accuracy. _"Yeah," Peter tried to smile. "Well, someone's got to keep you lot in line. Let's go look at strippers, shall we?"

* * *

"It really wasn't what you would call a romantic proposal," Lily insisted.

Charlotte sighed exasperatedly. "Come on, Lily. It was a proposal. It's still going to be more romantic than mine."

"You got a proposal?" Emily asked, surprised.

"No, that's the point," Charlotte clarified. "Just tell us, we won't laugh." She paused to think about this statement for a moment. "Well, if we do we're not laughing at you," she amended.

The three of them were sitting cross-legged on James and Lily's bed, wearing brightly patterned pajamas and eating mass amounts of junk food. It was very much like the sleepovers that Petunia used to have back at home, though this one was probably a lot more fun, seeing as how Petunia was not in attendance.

Lily reached for a Licorice Wand and pulled it apart so that she was holding a half in either hand. "I dunno," she said, biting a piece off of the half in her right hand and chewing thoughtfully. "He'd been acting very strange for about a month. He was always saying he had to ask me something, then he'd stutter for about an hour and a half before he could even talk. It was very much like we were sixteen again, which wasn't entirely pleasant. Anyway, he'd just say to forget it, and then bring up something else."

"How did you not know?" Emily asked. "I mean, I thought you guys knew each other really well."

"Yeah, well…I think I _did _sort of know, in the back of my mind. I guess I was just trying not to get my hopes up." She took another bite. "Or maybe I really didn't know and now that I _do _know, I'm thinking that I must have known." She paused. "Wow, spending way too much time with those boys."

"Anyway…" Charlotte prodded.

"Oh, yes!" Lily said, as though she had just remembered that she was telling a story. "Right. Okay. Um…" She thought for a moment, chewing on her licorice. "So before I left for work that day, he told me to meet him at this coffee shop that we sometimes go to. 'Six o' clock', he says. 'Don't be late. It's important.'

"So, of course, I'm still at work at 5:59 when Alice Longbottom comes in. Now, she's a nice lady, but she talks a lot. She started talking about…oh, I can't even remember what it was, but whatever it was, she was very passionate about it. Anyway, Alice is talking, and I'm trying to be polite, but I'm hardly listening to her. I'm staring at the clock on the wall behind her. I'd been late almost every time we set up a meeting lately—well, lately back then, does that make sense?" She didn't wait for an answer.

"We'd been fighting about it a little, and I knew that if I didn't get there pretty soon, we'd be fighting about it again tonight. That night. Whatever. I finally said goodbye to Alice but I was already fifteen minutes late. I Apparated to the coffee shop, and James is sitting there all by himself, looking like he could throw up at any minute. I apologize, and he sort of waves it off. He starts babbling, and I'm being stupid and antagonistic, interrupting him the whole time so he can hardly get a word in edgewise, and finally he just bursts out and says, 'I'm trying to ask you to marry me', and…" She shrugged. "I said 'yes', he passed me the ring, and that's about it."

* * *

"I've never seen an actual stripper before."

James, Remus, and Sirius all turned to Peter at the exact same time.

"But you've seen a lot of plastic ones?" Sirius smirked.

Peter blushed and swirled the ice cubes in his drink around with a stirring straw. "No," he said. "I'm just saying. I've never been to a strip club before."

The four of them were sitting right on front of the stage, the lights that ran all around it casting a bright pink sheen over their faces. They were holding equally brightly colored drinks, decorated with umbrellas and flowers, and James had a hat with "groom" emblazoned on it perched lopsidedly atop his head.

"Well," Sirius said, leaning back in his chair and sipping his drink contentedly, "that's because whenever we ask you to come you squeak for about forty years and then say 'no'."

Peter became extremely interested in the purple umbrella that came with his drink.

Remus, who was sitting next to James, elbowed the groom and said, "Enjoying yourself so far, Prongs?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" James said. "Although I hate this hat. I just hate hats in general, actually."

"No, no, Prongs," Sirius said from where he sat on the other side of James, "you have to wear the hat."

"Why?"

"Because once the girls see the hat with groom on it—"

"Assuming they can read," Remus cut in dryly.

Sirius ignored him and prattled on, "—they give you extra attention, and possibly free lap dances."

"But they still expect me to tip them, right?"

"As your friends," Remus said, "we are expected to do all the tipping, actually."

James frowned. "But the tipping's the best part," he said sadly.

"You _like _having your money taken away?" Peter asked incredulously.

"No," James responded, as though Peter were dense. "I like putting it in their knickers."

Sirius raised his drink. "As every self-respecting man should." He and James clinked their drinks together.

"Where are the girls, anyway?" Remus asked. "We've been here for fifteen minutes and I have yet to see a single schoolgirl."

James glanced at him curiously. "Schoolgirls, eh, Moony?"

Remus flushed. "It was an example," he muttered.

"Takes you back to the good old days, doesn't it, Moony?" Sirius teased. "Girls in skirts and stockings…lots of _plaid…_"

"Drink your cosmo, Sirius," Remus retorted.

Sirius grinned and cheerfully complied.

As if on cue, loud, obnoxious music started to play. Sirius released a doglike howl and Peter began to applaud a little over-enthusiastically as the shimmery curtain between backstage and the catwalk-like stage parted to reveal a girl with short blonde hair that she had curled and teased until it resembled a small cat. She was wearing a blue minidress, emphasis on the _mini_. She was also wearing a lot of purple lipstick and white spike heels. She spotted James's hat and grinned, sauntering in their direction.

Sirius howled even louder as the girl got down on her knees when she reached them. "Hi," she said in a low, seductive voice. "I'm Sandy."

"James," James told her, staring directly at her chest, which, thanks to her position; he had a full view of. "It's spiffing to meet you, Sandy."

She giggled and stood up again, twirling once before heading to a pole at the end of the stage. She hoisted herself onto it and spun herself around on it.

"That's an art, that is," Sirius commented.

"Seriously."

"I wonder how long it takes to learn how to do that?" Peter wondered aloud.

James flashed him a grin. "Why don't you go up there and find out, Wormtail?"

Peter was saved the indignity of answering as two girls—holding hands—stepped on stage. One, with long dark hair and a lot of dark lipstick, was wearing a red two-piece dress and a pair of devil ears. The other was blonde and wearing a white sparkly dress and angel wings.

"Themed stripping!" Sirius shouted. "Right up your alley, Moony!"

Remus put his face in his hands.

The angel and the devil began to dance with each other, causing all four boys to cheer raucously as another girl stepped onstage, wearing a shiny purple bra top and matching shorts. She, too, spotted James's groom hat and made her way towards them. As she grew closer, Remus noticed something…suspicious.

"Oh, my God!" he yelled, covering his eyes.

The girl, taking a slight offense at this, stalked away. James, Sirius, and Peter turned to him, glaring a little.

"What was that for?" James demanded. "She was going to give me a lap dance."

"That girl was not…a girl," Remus said.

The other three took a collective pause.

"What?" Peter finally said.

"Of course she's a girl, Moony," Sirius said. "You saw her chest."

"Yeah, I saw her chest," Remus responded. "But I also saw her…shorts."

Another pause.

"No way," James said uncertainly. "She's gotta be a girl."

"Wait until she…he…it turns around," Remus said. "Look at her…area and tell me she's not a guy."

"I don't really want to," Peter said softly.

Sirius rolled his eyes. "I'll look," he snapped. "God, you're all a bunch of pansies." He called for the girl, and she turned around.

Sirius dropped his empty glass.

"Who's up for a lot of really strong alcohol?" he asked, hurriedly grabbing his cloak.

* * *

As Emily shook up the bottle of pale pink nail polish she posed the question, "So what do you think those horrid boys are doing right now?"

Lily glanced at the clock on the wall. "11:30," she mused. "I'd say they're still looking at strippers."

Emily laughed and unscrewed the lid, swiping the excess polish on the lip of the bottle. "How can men stare at girls dancing around for hours at a time?"

"Easily," Charlotte responded. "Especially when the girls are taking their clothes off at the same time." She moistened her fingers and turned the page in the magazine she was reading.

Emily began to paint her index fingernail. "Yeah, I guess." She paused, apparently concentrating on the task at hand, when suddenly she said, "How much do you think strippers make, anyway?"

Both Charlotte and Lily looked up at her.

"You want to be a stripper, Em?" Charlotte asked, surprised. "I'm sure Mum will love that."

Emily flushed and dipped the brush back into the bottle of nail polish. "I don't want to be a stripper," she quickly assured them. "I was just wondering."

All three of them were quiet for a few moments, Charlotte reading her magazine, Emily painting her nails, and Lily picking lint off of her pajamas.

"It's probably a lot," Charlotte spoke up.

"Yeah," Lily agreed. "Because, think about it, for every day of the year, there's at least one wedding. And for almost every wedding, there's a stag night, right?"

"Right," Emily said.

"And where do best men take their friends for stag nights?"

"Strip clubs."

"Well, not all the time," Emily contradicted thoughtfully, starting in on her right hand. "I dated a guy once who went to a bachelor party at an ice cream shop." She paused, stopping mid-paint and thinking about this. "Actually, now that I think about it, that was probably a lie."

The three of them laughed at that and returned to their activities. Emily finished her nails and moved on to her toes. Lily started to brush her hair. Charlotte abandoned her first magazine and found another. They continued silently like this for about twenty minutes, and Lily was halfway asleep when a shriek from Charlotte jerked her awake.

"What?" she asked dazedly. "What's the matter?"

Charlotte didn't seem hurt but was pointing at something in the magazine. "That's your boyfriend!"

Lily leaned in, mildly interested. "Oh, yeah," she said casually. "That _Witch Weekly_? Yes, that's from about two years ago."

"Your boyfriend was one of the Most Eligible Bachelors," Charlotte said, "and you never told us?"

Lily raised an eyebrow. "It was a long time ago. James got quite a kick out of it though. A girl asked him to sign her copy once and he wouldn't shut up about it for about a month."

Emily laughed at that. "That's funny," she said. "I'm actually picturing that situation right now, and it's rather enjoyable."

"Sirius was furious," Lily told Charlotte. "He'd been on it for two years before that and he was convinced that James stole his spot that year. It was all right, though, because Sirius got the cover the next year."

"The _cover_?!"

"Yes," Lily replied, nodding shortly. "Now _that _was funny. Although slightly unbearable."

"I thought only _really_ famous people got the covers," Emily said, painting her last toe and screwing the lid back on the bottle. "Like authors and inventors and singers."

"Sirius dated the editor for a while," Lily replied. "She was much too old for him, but he liked her well enough. And he got the cover out of it, so all is well, I guess."

"That's mean," Charlotte said. "Dating someone just to get something."

"He didn't even know she was the editor of _Witch Weekly_ until their third date," Lily said defensively.

"Well, James looks very attractive here, doesn't he?" Charlotte asked, holding up the magazine.

Lily grinned mischievously. "Why, yes, Charlotte, I believe he does."

* * *

The 'horrid boys' were not still at the strip club. As a matter of fact, they had rather lost their taste for strip clubs and had vowed never to go into one again. They were, at this present time, sitting at the bar of the Hog's Head, sipping their first firewhiskeys of the night and reminiscing about their school days, when they would sneak out of school on Friday nights and drink.

"Remember," Sirius was saying, "Prongs's fifteenth birthday?"

"The fifteen shots?" James asked, smirking. "How could I forget?"

"Well, you don't remember anything of it except what we've told you, so I'd say, pretty easily," Remus responded, sniffing his drink suspiciously before taking a cautious sip. He'd never cared much for the stuff, but James had ordered a round without asking what anyone else wanted.

"I don't really remember," Peter frowned.

"That's because you were totally plastered and spend most of that night throwing up in the loo," Sirius told him, grinning. "But it's a good story, so let us refresh your memory, shall we? All right, Prongs decided that he would have fifteen shots, one for each year he was alive, right?"

"I'm not daft," Peter said crossly. "I do remember that." He paused. "Vaguely."

Sirius ignored him. "But he was only fifteen, didn't have quite the tolerance for it he thought he did. Passed out cold, right here on the bar. Remus here had to carry him back to the castle under the invisibility cloak while I stayed here with you. He came back for us later."

"And then I failed a Transfiguration test the next day," James said fondly, "because I was so hungover." He sighed reminiscently, smiling. "Good times."

"For _you,_" Remus contradicted darkly. "_I _was the one who had to carry you all the way back to the castle. And then while I was taking you up to the dorms, you came to and decided to take off the cloak and perform the song of your Quidditch team for me. And you woke up the Head Girl, so she came down and was very interested to know why you were hanging off my neck and calling me 'sugar'."

James grinned. "And what did you tell her?"

"That you had been on the receiving end of a very faulty Cheering Charm," Remus responded, taking another careful sip of his drink. "I could tell she didn't believe me."

"Why? That was a pretty good excuse."

"Yes, well, you kind of ruined it when you threw up on her slippers," Remus said coolly. "I got a detention."

Sirius looked up, surprised. "_You _got a detention?" he asked. "I don't remember that. Why not Prongs?"

"She could tell he was drunk and said that the hangover the next morning was punishment enough. She also forbid me from doing any charms on him to alleviate the pain."

James yawned. "I think I'm getting old," he announced. "I'm already tired."

Sirius pushed his drink away from him. "I'm too disturbed to even drink," he said.

"Hey!" Peter exclaimed. "We promised that we were never going to speak of it again."

"Sorry," Sirius mumbled.

"Now I'm thinking about it," Peter sulked. "I'm going to have nightmares tonight thanks to you, Sirius. Why didn't you _ask _if they had transsexual strippers?"

"Because I didn't _want _transsexual strippers!"

"The club was called 'Leggs', Sirius," Remus pointed out. "That should've tipped you off."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "How would that tip me off? It's not like it was called 'Hairy Leggs' or 'Hey, Guess What's Between My Leggs'. _That _would have tipped me off. Just 'Leggs' wouldn't. And didn't."

"Let's just go home, shall we?" James suggested quickly.

"Where's everyone headed?" Peter asked, standing up and shrugging on his cloak.

"I'm going to my place," Sirius said. "Prongs, are you coming?"

"Yeah," James responded, yawning again. "I've got Lily's friends camping out in my bedroom, so…"

Sirius, for once, ignored the obvious joke that was there and moved on to Remus. "Moony? You want to come?"

Remus shook his head. "Nah, that's okay."

"Wormtail?"

Peter also declined, so they said their goodbyes and Apparated away.

* * *

**A/N: **I must give credit where credit is due…I got the idea for the stripper being…less than female from _Love, Actually, _which is really great…the name of the strip club was from the blink-182 video for "The Rock Show"…I think that's it.

Anyway, now that that's out of the way…

This didn't really turn out to be as funny as I intended it to be, and for that I apologize. However, you guys usually like even what I don't, which is nice.

Two more chapters left!


	19. The Wedding Part I

Tripping Down the Aisle 

Chapter Nineteen: The Wedding 

**_Part 1 of 2_**

* * *

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**_Saturday, 24 June_**

**_8:15 a.m._**

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"Breakfast."

Lily opened one eye and saw Charlotte standing over her, hands on her hips and a wide smile on her face. "Charlotte, it's too early for breakfast," she mumbled into her pillow.

"Actually, you're late getting up," Charlotte responded matter-of-factly. "And when is too _early_ for breakfast?"

Lily sat up, yawning. "What time is it?"

"Quarter past eight. Emily's making muffins in your kitchen. You'd better get up to supervise before she makes something explode."

Lily rubbed her face and looked around the room confusedly. "Where's James?"

Charlotte raised her eyebrows. "At Sirius's. Remember? He spent the night. Now, come on. Muffins."

Lily paused. "Today…today is my wedding day."

Charlotte nodded slowly. "Yes. Yes, it is. That's why you need to get _up_ and eat some muffins."

Lily glanced up at her. "Why the enthusiasm over the muffins?" She slid out of bed, pulling the covers up to meet her pillow and reaching for her dressing gown, which was hanging from the doorknob of the closet.

Charlotte shrugged. "Well, I just figured you needed some…happy. See, I read this article and it said carbs send endorphins to your brain and that makes you happy."

Lily pulled on her dressing gown and tossed Charlotte a grin over her shoulder. "Charlotte," she said, "today is my wedding day. I am not going to be short on the happy." She tied the sash and amended, "Unless someone does something to mess today up. Then I might need a muffin. You know what, maybe we should just keep a basket of muffins on hand, just in case."

"Duly noted." Charlotte followed Lily out of the bedroom and down the hall, towards the kitchen.

"Has anyone called yet?" Lily asked, motioning loosely to the fireplace as they passed it. "Everyone I know is supposed to be popping in and out, apparently."

"James's mother," Emily reported loudly from the kitchen, causing Lily and Charlotte to jump at the apparently disembodied voice. Lily had not realized she had been talking loud enough for Emily to hear her behind the closed kitchen door. She wondered, frowning a little, if she naturally talked that loud or if it was an unconscious mistake. "Just a few minutes ago. Wanted to know where her son was. Oh, and she also said to tell you that…that…" There was a pause. "Charlotte, do you remember what James's mother wanted to tell Lily?"

Lily pushed open the kitchen door to reveal Emily, dressed in a pair of red-and-white striped pajama pants and a blue satin camisole of Lily's that she had tried on the night before and evidently never taken off. "Hi!" she said brightly at the sight of her friend and her sister. "I've got key lime and coconut on the table"—she pointed with her wand at the plate of food—"and there's apple cinnamon on the counter there, and I'm making pumpkin with cranberry and walnut right now."

Lily paused and sat down at the kitchen table. "Em, is this a new thing of yours?" she asked. "Muffins? Or are you trying to make it so I won't fit into my wedding dress?"

Charlotte grabbed a key lime coconut muffin from the plate and tore off a little piece. "You can eat whatever you want today, actually," Charlotte told her, popping the bit of muffin into her mouth. "Go ahead. Indulge in the starch." She paused a little, chewing thoughtfully. "And if not, a nice Expanding Spell wouldn't hurt anyone."

"And to answer your question, Lily," Emily said, stirring her muffin batter with her wand, "this is not a new thing. This is a constant, ongoing thing."

"Oh?"

"Mm-hmm," Charlotte replied, breaking off another piece of muffin. "Emily's always had this weird thing about muffins. Used to make them by the hundreds at home."

"They're really a lot better if you don't do them the magic way," Emily said, finishing off the pumpkin with a quick baking charm, "but I figure there's going to be tons of people in this house today so I'd better make a lot, and if I make a lot, I have to do it the quick way." She Summoned a green plate and casually flicked her wand at each individual muffin, sending them flying over to the plate, where they arranged themselves in a nice little pyramid shape.

"Who all _is _coming by today, Lily?" Charlotte asked, still working on her muffin.

Lily reached in her gown pocket for her wand and Summoned an apple-cinnamon muffin and a butter knife. "Well," she replied thoughtfully, cutting the muffin in half vertically then horizontally, "I know my mother will be by around ten. Remus will be by in a bit to report my movements to James."

"Chocolate chip or blueberry next?" Emily cut in, flipping through a cookbook that she must have brought from home.

"Chocolate chip," Charlotte requested.

"Done."

"That horrid wedding planner of mine is supposed to come around noon to help me into my dress because God knows I can't dress myself. A few people from the—" Lily cut herself off, realizing that she had almost said 'the Order'—"from work," she corrected smoothly. "Basically, people just splitting their time between here and Sirius's."

"What about James's mother?" Emily asked from the counter, where she was sifting flour.

Lily glanced up at her. "What about her?"

"What time will she be arriving?"

"I wasn't aware she was," Lily replied.

Emily looked away from her bowl, grinning sheepishly. "_That's _what I was supposed to tell you. She said that she'd be coming by before she went over to Sirius's."

Lily smiled. "Then her, too."

"Should we be scared of her?" Charlotte inquired.

Lily shook her head. "She's a little intimidating at first, but she's really a nice lady," she assured her.

"She's not one of those mothers who calls girls harlots and tarts and things like that?"

"No."

"You're sure?"

"Charlotte," Lily said calmly. "I've met James's mother countless times and she has never once called me a harlot." She paused. "To my face, at least."

* * *

**_9:47 a.m._**

* * *

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"Who wants coffee?" Sirius called from the kitchen, where he was brewing some.

James, Peter, and Remus were all sitting around Sirius's coffee table, still in their sleep clothes, reading the _Daily Prophet. _"Depends," Remus replied. "Is this coffee…Irish?"

Sirius grinned. "If you want it to be."

James resignedly folded up the sports section and tossed it on the table. "I can't concentrate," he announced, frustrated. "My mind keeps wandering."

"And this is different from every day how?" Peter asked, turning his page.

James shrugged. "I'm nervous," he said. "I shouldn't be…but I am."

"Why shouldn't you be?" Sirius asked, blowing on his steaming coffee as he made his way back to the chair he had been occupying before deciding he wanted something to drink. "It's your wedding day, Prongs. You're going to be nervous. You may even wet yourself at the altar, which would be incredibly funny."

James paled a little. "Don't say that," he said, almost whining.

"You won't wet yourself," Remus assured him from behind the business section. He paused. "Probably."

"Easy for you to say," James snapped back. "You're not the one getting married."

Sirius saw his opportunity and jumped on it. "Speaking of Mr. Moony's love life," he sang.

Remus frowned behind his paper and concentrated on the picture of Phillip Roman, a famous apothecarian…was that the word? Anyway, he owned a chain of apothecaries and was in the paper because his business was named one of the twenty most profitable of the year on the annual _Galleon _magazinelist.

"Is your mystery girl going to be at the wedding?" Sirius was asking. "Moreover, will we get to meet her?"

Hestia was indeed going to be at the wedding; Sirius had begged for James to put her on the guest list. "It'll be easy," Sirius had said excitedly. "Girls get completely weepy at weddings, right? They hear the biological clock ticking, they drown their sorrows in champagne, I'm there to comfort her, she swoons into my arms—bam! We're honeymooning in Majorca within the year."

So it was going to be interesting to see how this was going to play out. If your definition of 'interesting' involved painful awkwardness and eviscerations with butter knives.

"No," Remus said evenly. "No, she will not be there."

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Peter eyeing him carefully as he chewed on a Peppermint Toad he had found under Sirius's couch. Peter still did not know who Remus's girlfriend actually was, or why all the secretiveness where she was concerned was necessary, but that didn't stop Remus from feeling incredibly guilty whenever Peter looked at him like that. Not that he really needed any help in that department, after Sirius's Girls-at-Weddings speech.

Remus had sorta been thinking that maybe Sirius was getting over Hestia. He hadn't mentioned her in a while, and had even been asked out last month. Of course, he hadn't said _yes_, but still. But after the Girls-at-Weddings speech, it became pretty clear that that had been wishful thinking.

Which left Remus exactly where he started.

Which completely and totally sucked.

Peter shivered. "Ooh," he said, wrinkling his nose. "I'll never get used to the hopping." He tossed the rest of the Toad onto the coffee table, rubbing his stomach and squinting in discomfort.

"On the plus side," Sirius smirked, "you now know exactly what Prongs is going through."

"And that's a plus?" Peter returned.

"Well, okay, maybe not," Sirius reasoned.

James shot him a glare.

Sirius pretended not to notice. "But you have minty fresh breath," he pointed out cheerfully.

Peter paused and held his hand up to his mouth and breathed, then sniffed. James and Remus watched this display with mixed expressions of amusement and disgust. "Yes, I do," Peter reported, removing his hand from his mouth and grinning at his friends.

"Ew," James mumbled listlessly.

Remus lowered his paper and glanced at the clock on the wall opposite them. "It's almost ten," he said. "We should get dressed."

"Okay," Sirius and Peter chorused. Neither of them made any sort of movement to get up. Peter picked up the abandoned Toad and broke it in half, popping a segment in his mouth and wincing as he swallowed. Sirius drank his coffee and pulled the sports section of the paper to himself.

"Damn," he said calmly, taking a small sip. "Arrows lost to the Bats, Prongs."

"I know," James replied. "I read that before you, remember? 650-200, wasn't it?"

"Yeah," Sirius told him. "Shame." He turned the page.

"I think it's a bad omen," James declared dramatically. "The Arrows lose to a pushover like the Bats, and by a _lot_…that's gotta signify something, right?"

Remus glanced at him, an eyebrow raised. "Hey, Prongs, they're closing the Hogsmeade chapter of Madam Malkin's, reckon that's an omen of some sort? Bad fashion choices for the rest of your life and so on?"

James rolled his eyes. "You can sneer at it, Moony," he snapped as Peter snickered, "but I happen to be a firm believer in omens."

"Okay," Remus responded, trying not to smile. "Seriously, though, Prongs, you'll be absolutely fine." He stood up, tossing his paper onto the coffee table and stretching a little. "I am going to go get dressed and then I'm going to go see Lily, okay?"

James paled. "All right."

As Remus passed him, he clapped James on the shoulder. "You'll be fine," he said again. "Really."

"Think happy thoughts," Sirius added.

Remus nodded and headed down the hallway.

"Don't forget your cufflinks!" Sirius called obnoxiously, rousing snickers from the other two.

Remus could not help but wince.

* * *

**_10:04 a.m._**

* * *

****

Lily's mother had been at the house for no less than five minutes and was already sobbing unrestrainedly into a cloth napkin.

"Mum," Lily wheedled, kneeling in front of her mother's chair. "Mum, it's all right!"

Mrs. Evans emitted a short, high-pitched wail.

"Have a muffin," Emily suggested.

"Do you _really_ think baked goods are the answer, Em?" Charlotte replied with slight exasperation from the wall she was leaning against.

Emily tossed her hair. "Baked goods are _always _the answer, _Char._"

Charlotte wrinkled her nose. "Don't call me 'Char'."

"Why not?"

"Because it's lame."

Mrs. Evans wailed again.

Lily squinted her eyes shut. The whole situation was giving her a headache. "Okay," she said, rising from the floor. "Okay, let's everyone just…calm down, okay? Mum, would you like a Sedative Spell?"

Mrs. Evans shook her head slowly.

"You're all right?"

Lily's mother sucked in a large breath, held it, and exhaled, daubing at her eyes with the napkin. "I'll be all right, yes," she said finally.

"Good," Lily said. "Happy. Okay, Emily? Lay off the muffins, all right? I'm extremely glad—I'm _thrilled_, in point of fact—that you took it upon yourself to provide us all with sustenance, and they're great, but not everyone needs a muffin. Charlotte?"

Charlotte looked up from the floor, her face twisted in an expression of mild indignance. "I haven't done anything!"

Lily paused and realized that she was mostly right. "Well…don't antagonize your sister?"

Charlotte snorted. "Wow, you really need to have children. Immediately."

Lily blushed, but managed to retort, "I have one. His name is James and he's twenty-one."

There was a 'pop' sound, and all four women turned to see where it was coming from. Remus Lupin cautiously pushed the door to the kitchen open and smiled at them. "Hi," he said.

"Hello," Lily said pleasantly, hurrying to cross the room and give him a hug. "Remus, you remember Emily and Charlotte Castner." She motioned to Emily, sitting on the kitchen counter eating a banana nut muffin, and then to Charlotte, still leaning against the wall. Remus nodded and smiled a them. "And my mother?"

"Hello, Mrs. Evans," he said as politely as he possibly could.

"Mum, you remember Remus?" Lily asked. "He's one of James's best friends."

Mrs. Evans flashed him a watery smile. "Right," she recalled. "The smart one?"

That drew a laugh from Remus. "Hardly," he said dryly.

"Don't be modest, Remus," Lily smiled. "How's James?" she slipped in, trying to sound casual but only coming across anxious.

"He hasn't fled the country, if that's what you mean," Remus responded, hesitantly taking a seat at the kitchen table across from Mrs. Evans. He glanced around the room and paused. "What's with all the muffins?"

"I made them," Emily told him proudly.

Remus paused. "Are you preparing for mass genocide or something?" he asked curiously.

Emily tossed her hair, seemingly put-out by his lack of enthusiasm toward her efforts. "I don't see where muffins would come in handy with mass genocide," she replied tartly.

Remus shrugged. "Famine, then."

"There is no famine to speak of."

"Glad to hear it." He turned to Lily. "How are you doing?" he asked. "You all right? Do you need anything?"

Lily smiled slightly. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

She nodded. "I'm fine," she repeated. "I feel like my stomach is going to come out my mouth, but other than that, I'm completely fine."

Remus grinned. "Same as James, then."

That drew a full-on smile. "Yes, well. I think some of the ladies from the—"—she really was very bad about the whole 'keeping-the-Order-a-secret' thing—"from _work_," she said the word 'work' extremely pointedly and she knew that Remus understood, "are coming by pretty soon. And James's mother, I think. Maybe. And…the wedding planner."

"Ladies from work, hmm?" Remus asked, looking and sounding sorta strained. "Like…who?"

Lily considered. "Well, I invited Emmeline Vance, but you know how busy she is…Alice Longbottom; I think she's bringing Frank, so you could talk to him…" She thought a bit more. "Oh! Your friend, the girl Sirius likes, Hestia? She said she might stop by."

A very strange expression crossed Remus's face. "Oh," he said. "That's—lovely."

* * *

**_11:39 a.m._**

* * *

****

****

"Breathe _into _the bag, James, there's a good lad," Sirius coaxed, patting his friend on the back as he inhaled and exhaled exaggeratedly into a small paper bag. "All right, you going to be okay?"

James nodded slowly, the paper bag making a loud, crackling sort of noise as he breathed.

"All right." Sirius clapped James on the shoulder again and left him to his own devices. "Hour and a half 'till go time," he told Peter cheerfully.

"Reckon he'll lose it by then?" Peter asked conversationally, munching on a ginger biscuit from the tin James's mother had brought by an hour or so before. "These are really good, by the way," he added, holding up the container.

"I know, his mum is a great cook," Sirius replied, taking a biscuit from the proffered tin. "Anyway—"

He was cut off by James's small voice saying, "Sirius, I threw up in the bag."

"Blimey," Sirius muttered, abandoning the biscuit on back of the chair Peter was sitting in and heading back down the hallway to his bedroom, where he had left his best friend. "And _that _is going to be somebody's husband. I'm coming, Prongs."

As soon as Sirius's back was turned, Peter snatched the biscuit off the chair and popped it in his mouth.

"This is why I suggested the Sedative Spell," Sirius said to James, waving his wand and Vanishing the bag. "Sedative Spells _prevent _problems like this." He Summoned a cloth from his bedroom and handed it to his best friend, adding, "You've got sick just there", rubbing at the side of his mouth to show James where it was.

"I know," James grimaced. "I can taste it." He swiped at the corner of his mouth with the cloth.

Sirius's face contorted into a mixed expression of disgust and pity. "That's it," he muttered, raising his wand, "Sedative Spell for you."

"No!" James wailed. "Sedative Spells rob me of my personality!"

"Would you prefer to vomit on your girlfriend in front of every single person you've ever met?"

James considered this. "Fine," he said after a few moments.

After Sirius performed the spell, he said, "I can't believe you had to think about that."

James shrugged. "Every decision deserves some sort of consideration," he said.

"That's beautiful," Sirius said. "Did you make that up just now?"

James grinned proudly. "I did."

"It's beautiful."

"I thought so."

Sirius smiled back and sat down on his bed next to James. "Still nervous?"

James shrugged again. "A little. Spell's helped, though."

"Think you'll cry?"

James shook his head solemnly. "No. I am much too manly to show emotion."

They both chuckled a little at that and James asked, "What about you? You going to cry?"

"Nah." He glanced over. "I never liked you much, anyway."

"Ah, that's true."

Another pause. "Moony, on the other hand," Sirius said, "is going to be a mess."

James smiled and stared at his shoes. "Right."

"Yeah."

"Moony, of course."

Sirius stretched and looked around the room, as if he was looking for something. "Speaking of Moony," he said, still looking around like he expected Remus to pop out of the closet and yell 'boo!' at any second, "he's been gone for about an hour and a half now. That's an awfully long time to be surrounded by that much hairspray."

"Huh," James said idly. "I wonder where he is?"

* * *

**_11:42 a.m._**

* * *

****

****

The answer to that question was in James and Lily's hall closet, up against a wall (again), snogging his girlfriend.

It was not a very conspicuous place to be participating in this activity, the closet, but it was the best one he had been able to think of when Hestia had cornered him in the empty hallway and started playing with his belt buckle while she spoke in a low, even voice about…well, tulle, but it was the _way _she had been talking about it.

And, after all, the closet was a much better place to snog his…secret girlfriend than the hallway.

"Mm—what—mm—what time is it?" Remus asked, pulling away for a moment.

"Unless you've got a clock hidden in your mouth somewhere, how am I supposed to know?" Hestia returned.

"We've been in here a long time."

"I know, it's _lovely_."

"Your idea of romance is snogging in my best friend's coat closet?"

She shrugged. "Could be worse." Even though it was dark, he could sense her smiling, and she hooked her finger under the belt loop of his pants and pulled him to her again, covering his mouth with hers and tangling her other hand in his hair.

They stayed like that for another minute or so before there was a gust of air and a strangled sort of shriek.

Remus removed his mouth from Hestia's and turned to see Lily, standing in front of them with one hand on the doorknob and the other clapped firmly over her mouth, shock written all over her face.

Hestia and Remus stared at Lily, Hestia's hands still at his pants and in his hair.

Lily stared back, eyes wide and hand frozen on her mouth.

"Er," Remus finally said, "I'm sure I can explain."

Lily continued to stare, but slowly lowered her hand from her mouth. "I—I don't need an explanation," Lily said, her voice trembling with surprise and sarcasm. "It's clear what happened. You, er, were playing hide and seek and she was hiding in the closet, and you went in to tag her and tripped over her shoelace and simply—er—fell on her mouth. Could've happened to anyone, really."

Hestia bit her lip and looked down at her shoes—which were noticeably devoid of laces.

"No," Remus said. "Hestia was just helping me with my, er…"

"Zipper?" Lily supplied swiftly.

This would be very, very funny if it was anyone else…

"Maybe I should go," Hestia whispered, meeting Remus's eyes.

He was extremely jealous of her ability to make a quick exit. "Yeah, okay," Remus muttered.

Hestia avoided Lily's eyes as she exited the closet and hastily Disapparated.

"Let's talk about this," Lily said softly.

Remus glanced around. "In the closet?"

"No, not in the _closet_," she responded sardonically. "There's no one in James's study, we can talk in there." She headed down the hallway and he followed, feeling very much like a little boy caught with a hand in the cookie jar, about to be lectured by his mother. Lily pushed the study door open and held it there for him. He muttered a thanks as he passed her, and she closed the door behind him. She turned to face him, her eyebrows raised curiously.

"How…?" she asked listlessly.

"I don't know," Remus responded truthfully.

Lily leaned against the door, her hand on the doorknob. "I don't suppose it would surprise you to hear that Sirius will explode?"

"It wouldn't surprise me," Remus agreed. He paused and asked tentatively, "You're not going to tell him, are you?"

She shrugged. "It's not my place to tell." She regarded him almost sadly and said quietly, "I'm happy that you found someone, Remus, but…you couldn't've picked someone else?"

Remus quirked an eyebrow. "No offense or anything, Lily, but you of all people should know that you can't pick who you fall for."

She allowed a reluctant sort of smile. "Yeah, I guess you're right. However—"

"That doesn't excuse it," he recited. "Yes, I know. Trust me, I've been so…" He trailed off, noticing how she was watching him with increased interest and blushing.

"Why didn't you just…tell him?" Lily suggested cautiously.

"Who, Sirius?" Remus said rhetorically. "Lily, I saw how he blew up at you for what you said at Christmas. Can you imagine how he'd take me telling him I was _sleeping _with her?"

"No matter how much he likes to pretend otherwise," she said quietly, "Sirius is fiercely loyal to the people he loves. He'll be angry at first but he'll come to terms with it. He'll stand by you."

"Yeah, like I did for him?" Lily opened her mouth to say something, but he cut her off. "Listen, he _cannot _find out. I don't want to—to lose him, I guess, and if he found out, I _would_."

"I'm not going to tell him," Lily said shortly. "But if you don't want to face whatever consequences could come of this, why did you do it?"

Remus smiled mirthlessly. "Hestia's convincing," he said simply. "And I really wanted it. You know what that's like."

"Do I?"

"Mm-hmm. Didn't you tell me that you put off dating James for so long because he—"

"Was a prat," Lily filled in, nodding succinctly.

"Not only that, but because you were sure that nothing good could come of it?"

Lily paused, considering. "Yes, I suppose I did."

"But you did get together with him because you wanted it that much."

"And because he was never going to leave me alone until I did."

"Lily, be serious."

She fought off the smile that was threatening to spread over her face and said, "Yeah, okay. I got together with him because he's roguishly attractive and a very good kisser."

"And?" he prompted.

"And I wanted him. Oh, that makes me sound like a bit of a trollop, doesn't it?" she grinned.

"No," Remus replied dryly. "That makes you sound like a teenager, which you were."

"Remus, I practically still am a teenager," Lily pointed out. "And you're younger than I am. Don't act so tortured."

Just as he was about to respond, a girlish sort of voice rang throughout the house: "Miss Evans!"

"Oh, dear God," Lily winced. "That's the wedding planner. Escape while you can, or else she'll think I'm having some sort of sordid affair with you." She turned her head, as if yelling back directly to the door would make her easier heard. "I'm coming!"

Remus smiled and said, "Are you sure? We could mess with her. Stage an argument about how I won't let you marry James, not when you're my heart's breath, my reason for living—"

"No!" Lily said in abject horror. "She would _believe _you!"

He laughed.

"I'm serious! Go! Peter and Sirius and James are probably wondering where you are anyway." Dramatically placing a hand over her heart, she added, "Save yourself, Remus."

Still laughing, he Disapparated.

"Miss Evans, where are you hiding?" giggled Adeline, sounding closer.

Lily rubbed at her eyes and steeled herself. "I'm coming," she repeated.

* * *

**A/N: **::hates this chapter:: It took so long and wasn't even that good, for which I apologize. The next chapter (which, if I have my way, is the last chapter) will be better and will include: the actual wedding, confrontations, speeches, and cake (clearly the most important part of all weddings). Votes as for what _kind _of cake are welcome. ;)

Also, check out the _Deflating _spin-off, _Stalking Lily Evans. _And review. Because both of those things would make me happy.

Apologies again for the lateness and suckiness of this chapter. Hopefully the next one will make up for it.

…I'm not making any promises, though. ;)


	20. The Wedding Part II

Tripping Down the Aisle Chapter Twenty: The Wedding, Part 2

Note: Hey, yeah, remember how I said this was the last chapter? Funny thing…

Well, what happened was…it was taking me…_way _too long to get this out. There was just so much that had to happen in here, and I just couldn't get into it, knowing that I had to do so much. So I decided to split it up into two chapters, and…everything came a lot easier, and I was able to get it done and post it for you!

I really am sorry about making you wait five months to not even have the story be over, but with this way, it actually gets finished and it's not all rushed and filled with general badness. I should've known that I wasn't going to be able to finish everything up in one chapter—and you were right to express your disbelief in reviews for 19—but I was really…I guess we'd say jazzed about having both _Deflating _and _TDA _a nice, even 20 chapters. It was irrational. I apologize.

Well…here it is.

* * *

Part 2/2

* * *

"Where _are _they?" Sirius demanded impatiently, hitting his wrist repeatedly with the stack of index cards he was holding.

"Three guesses," Peter replied lazily, grabbing a flute of champagne from a tray the waitress who had just passed them was holding.

The wedding had gone off mostly without incident, except for the part where Sirius had started to cry and Peter had laughed at him rather loudly, causing James to twist around and shoot them death glares until they stopped. James and his wife had disappeared after their little half-run down the aisle, and their guests were currently awaiting their arrival in the reception hall.

"Yes, but I know Prongs doesn't take _that _long," Sirius said crossly. "They've been gone for thirty minutes."

Peter and Remus both slowly turned to stare at him. "And exactly what do you know about James's…bedroom skills?" Remus asked.

"Enough," Sirius responded vaguely, still playing with the cards. At their expressions, he explained, "He asked me—you know what, nevermind. I'm not going to betray my best friend's confidences. It was an extremely uncomfortable conversation anyway, and I don't really feel like replaying it for your entertainment."

This conversation was growing uncomfortable in itself, so Remus quickly changed the subject. "Why so impatient, Sirius?"

"I want to give my speech," Sirius answered, and Remus realized that that must've been what the cards were for. "I've been gathering material for this speech for fourteen years, and if they spend their entire reception in a cupboard somewhere I'll never get to give it."

"Fourteen years?" Peter said, surprised. "You've been friends for that long?"

"Mm. I met James when I was six. We—" He cut himself off. "But you will just have to wait for the speech to hear that story," he finished primly.

There was a sudden, outrageously loud sort of cackle that caused Peter and Remus to jump, but Sirius to smile sort of fondly.

"What was that?" Peter asked, slightly alarmed.

"Cousin Seb," Sirius replied cheerfully. "Bless him, he must be thoroughly sloshed already. He always laughs like that when he's drunk. Which is always."

"Seb?" Remus said. "James's cousin Seb?"

"Mm-hmm. Great chap, Cousin Seb. Always forgets who Lily is. Thinks she's Cherise."

Cherise was James's first real girlfriend. He'd gotten together with her in October of his sixth year, and had really been quite taken with her. She was a pretty, fun sort of Hufflepuff seventh year who liked to change her nail polish every day, hum peppy pop songs under her breath, write in purple ink, and drink. She liked to drink a lot, actually, and was much better at it than anyone else they had ever known at school. The only bad thing about her drinking was that she tended to get mean if she had too much, and she would try to pick physical fights with anyone who was around. The relationship faltered towards the end of the school year when Cherise decided she was too old for James and he decided he'd never really stopped liking Lily Evans and had merely been going with Cherise to curb boredom. Which was cruel, but sadly true.

"They don't look anything alike," Peter commented, amused.

Without skipping a beat, Sirius told him, "Cousin Seb's an alcoholic, Peter. He forgets the names of his own significant others; you can't expect him to remember James's. Why d'you think he's been divorced four times?"

"Weren't you supposed to be keeping him away from the bar _because _he's an alcoholic?" Remus asked.

"Yeah, I was," Sirius said unconcernedly, tapping his index cards on his hip. "But it wouldn't be nearly as fun if Seb wasn't drunk off his arse. Seb's a fun drunk. More fun than Lily, even."

"You just say that because she kissed you that one time," Peter said.

"And it was fun. For both parties, I should think."

"Is that why she sat on you once her hangover had worn off, put a wand to your throat, and made you swear you would never speak of it again?" Remus inquired airily.

"Yes, as a matter of fact," Sirius returned easily. "She was afraid that James would realize we had spent a night of passion together and break up with her. He'd have to leave the country, probably, and go someplace like Czechoslovakia or Zimbabwe or, y'know, Nebraska to become a missionary or something. I mean, _I _wouldn't want to follow me, would you?"

Peter was sniggering, but Remus flatly said, "She kissed you, Sirius, she didn't bear your children."

"Ah, 'cos I stopped her. Who knows what would've happened if I hadn't pried her off me? You could be talking to James right now about his fling with my wife."

"No, I couldn't," Remus retorted, "because according to you, he's in Nebraska."

"I don't think James would go to Nebraska, actually," Sirius said thoughtfully. "He's just not a Nebraska kind of person. I definitely think he's more of the Yugoslavian type. Simply because I think he'd enjoy saying 'Yugoslavia'."

"Do you even know where Yugoslavia _is_?" Peter asked.

"Do you?"

"No," Peter replied shamelessly, shrugging a little.

"Oh," Sirius said. "I don't either. I hoped you did so you could tell me."

Cousin Seb cackled again. Remus winced.

_"There _they are," Sirius said exasperatedly, and Remus and Peter turned to face the entry to the reception hall, where James and Lily were standing, smiling sheepishly and holding hands. Cheers and applause greeted them, causing Lily to turn to James and laugh, her cheeks flushing attractively. The swarm of guests closed in on the two of them, obscuring them from the remaining Marauders' view.

"I bet that's the whole reason James got married," Sirius volunteered pensively, tapping the index cards against the side of his left hand. "The attention."

"Ah, well, that's a switch from last week's theory that he was doing it for the presents."

"The presents and the attention," Sirius amended, unfazed.

"And the week before that it was because you were sure Lily was pregnant," Peter reminded him.

"She has definitely put on weight," Sirius said with a slight defensive air.

"And the week before—" Peter began.

"Hestia!" Sirius interrupted him, waving someone over. "Oy, Hestia!"

A cold feeling spread through the pit of Remus's stomach. He turned his head slowly to see Hestia, clad in a dress of knee-length chiffon, deep red in color. She had diamond studs in her ears and a matching bracelet, which caught the light and sparkled when she returned Sirius's wave and headed their way.

"I almost got lost," she confided, laughing breathlessly when she reached them. She pushed some of her dark hair behind her ear and pulled on her right earlobe, something she always did when under pressure. "It's a nightmare over there." She nodded her head in the direction of the crowd surrounding James and Lily.

"I know what you mean," Sirius said, perhaps a bit too eagerly.

Peter was squinting at Hestia as though he remembered her from someplace but he wasn't quite sure where and it was bothering him. Remus's stomach contracted nervously, hoping he didn't make the connection.

"Hello, Remus," she said, catching his eye and smiling in what, to an outsider, would look like a casual manner. "Always nice to see you."

Remus realized he was staring and quickly jerked his gaze away and concentrated intently on a spot on the wall three inches above Hestia's head. He tried not to blush. "Likewise," he replied, his voice stiffly polite.

Sirius jabbed him in the side. "Be nice," he hissed.

"I am nice," Remus mumbled. _If only you knew quite how nice._

Sirius turned back to Hestia, smiling his toothpaste-ad smile. "Honestly, can't take him anywhere."

Peter cleared his throat pointedly, adjusting his collar and glancing around the room.

"Oh," Sirius said. "This is Peter Pettigrew, he's another friend of ours. Peter, this is Hestia Jones."

As she shook his hand, Hestia furrowed her brow and asked, "Don't I know you from somewhere?"

Remus closed his eyes.

"Er," Peter said, and when Remus opened his eyes again they had released each other's hands and Peter had obviously realized where he knew _her _from and was trying to think of something to say. "I—I don't think so."

"You might've seen pictures," Remus spoke up quickly, "i-in the paper. Peter works at St. Mungo's."

"Yes," Peter agreed promptly. "I do. I work at St. Mungo's."

Sirius frowned. "You work in the file room, Wormtail. How would that get you in the paper?"

Peter threw him a dirty look. "I do more than just work in the file room," he said, with as much dignity as he could muster. "I deliver letters to the patients and—and I direct meals to the correct rooms and I—I help organize the storeroom sometimes." He blushed furiously as though realizing for the first time that maybe his job wasn't as glamorous as he had previously thought.

"Oh, right," Sirius said sarcastically. "How could I forget? Glorified waiters routinely get full-page articles in the _Prophet_, I apologize."

Peter started to launch himself at Sirius, but Remus, having expected this, gripped Peter's arm. "He didn't mean it," Remus told Peter. "Sirius is just an arrogant cad, you know that."

"The official description, actually, is 'devilishly attractive, unmistakably single, arrogant cad," Sirius drawled, scratching his head absently.

Remus released Peter's arm. "Oh, I didn't forget," he replied dryly. He caught Hestia's eye. She looked highly amused, quirking an eyebrow at him and fighting a smile. Remus averted his eyes and tugged on the sleeve of his robe to distract himself.

"Ah, it's the marrieds!" Sirius shouted exuberantly, and Remus, Peter, and Hestia turned to see James and Lily making their way towards them. "How d'you feel, Prongs? Depressingly mature? Trapped? Peaky?"

"I'm a bit buzzed, actually," James responded, grinning. "I can't stop smiling."

"Oh, that's because I shot you with a Cheering Charm," Lily said, giggling uncontrollably.

He laughed with her for a while, then paused and tentatively asked, "That was a joke, yes?"

She nodded, still giggling.

"Brilliant. Let's go find a closet to shag in, wife."

"Again?" Lily implored, still laughing like a schoolgirl.

"Yes," James responded, tugging on her hand. "Now."

"No!" Sirius cried, waving the cards at their retreating backs. "I have to give my speech!"

They paid him no heed and soon disappeared in the crowd.

"Disgusting," Sirius muttered, shoving his index cards moodily into his pocket and folding his arms over his chest like an insolent child. "Rabbits, is what they are. It's a miracle they haven't surrounded us with speccy little children with red hair and bad attitudes." He scowled.

"Oh, come off it," Remus said, punching his friend good-naturedly in the arm. "Are you telling me you wouldn't be thrilled to be Uncle Padfoot?"

Sirius fought a smile. "Yes. That's exactly what I'm telling you."

"You'd love that and you know it," Remus grinned.

"Would not," Sirius mumbled, rubbing at his mouth in an attempt to disguise the smile that was slowly spreading there.

"Would too. You'd spend all day thinking up new ways to give Lily heart attacks. Hang the baby upside down by its feet. Take it on a broomstick. Buy it leather."

"Hide its glasses," Sirius muttered. He finally allowed the smile to grow. "Used to do that to James all the time when we were kids. I'd take his glasses when he was sleeping and hide them. Drove him mad. He'd spend upwards of eight hours looking for them. It was great."

"Sirius, you still do that," Peter reminded him.

"And it's still funny, is it not?"

Remus was about to reply when James's mother, wearing an elegant, almost regal ensemble of black satin, approached them. She had tears in her eyes and, without any sort of warning, flung her arms around Sirius's neck and gave a rackety sob.

"I know, Maureen," Sirius said, patting her on the shoulder. "Little boy, growing up so fast, and so on."

"Married!" she choked throatily. "My Jimmy! I— " She was unable to finish her sentence, as she burst into tears again.

"I know," Sirius repeated, taking her by the arm and gently steering her towards the hallway. "No one is more surprised than I."

Hestia laughed a little, watching Sirius lead Mrs. Potter out of the room before turning back to Peter and Remus, a smile still on her face. "It was a lovely wedding," she said, as if Peter and Remus were the ones who had just been married.

Peter nodded. "Listen," he said abruptly, "I don't mean to be rude, but d'you mind if I talk to Remus alone for a second?"

Hestia's eyes flickered to Remus for about half a second before turning back to Peter. "Of course," she replied. "I was about to go get myself a drink anyway." She smiled at him. "Great to meet you," she added, straightening her skirt and adjusting her hair a little before heading back into the throng.

Peter and Remus both watched her go. "So," Peter said conspiratorially, "you're boffing her, then?"

"Don't be crass, Peter," Remus replied, scratching absently at the base of his neck.

"Well, aren't you?" Peter insisted, turning his head to face the other man. "And there's no use lying. I recognize her from the pub."

"If you recognized her, why bother asking me?" Remus wanted to know.

Peter whistled lowly.

"What was that for?"

"I didn't actually know for sure if it was her," he said, rather proudly. "Now I do."

It did not bode well, Remus thought as dryly as it is possible for someone to really think, for his supposedly discreet nature that two people had discovered his torrid secret in the span of five hours. Remus shot Peter the dirtiest sidelong look he could muster. "Say nothing," he said flatly.

"Didn't figure you for the type," Peter said, positively cheerful that he'd come to a correct conclusion all on his own. "I always thought it would be James or Sirius to do this sort of thing. Not _you_."

"First off," Remus said irritably, "do you spend a lot of time thinking up soap-opera situations to throw us in?"

Peter shrugged. "I work in a file room, Moony," he said seriously. "I don't have much to do."

"Secondly," Remus continued, ignoring this, "when would James or Sirius get the opportunity to do this sort of thing? James has been with Lily forever, and Sirius still doesn't like her as much as he could."

"Which would make it all the more shocking," Peter replied promptly. "No one would ever expect it."

Remus stared. "We really need to find you a better job," he said.

Peter nodded. The silence that followed was, while not exactly the most comfortable, not entirely awkward. When Peter spoke again, it was with a much more solemn tone. "When are you going to tell him?"

Remus said nothing, gazing down at his shoes instead.

"So that's a never?"

"Not never. But not…soon, either," Remus said, frowning at the stupidity of his sentence. "I just…I'm waiting for the right time…or something." That wasn't much better, but it would have to do.

"How long has it been?"

"Three months, give or take."

Peter scoffed softly. "Moony," he said, almost gently, "if you haven't told him yet, what are the chances you ever will?"

Remus looked away from Peter, watching Hestia laugh politely at a joke one of the other wedding guests had made. She said something to the woman, brushing a strand of hair away from her face as she did. Remus turned back to Peter, who was watching him stare.

Peter clapped Remus on the shoulder, completely ruining the poignant little moment he had set up. "She's quite pretty, though," he said. "Don't know how _you _netted a bird like that."

Remus was staring at Hestia again, watching her take her seat at the table where, most unluckily, Remus would soon be sitting himself—with all of his friends. She glanced up from her silverware and caught his eye, flashing him the tiniest of smiles before returning to her inspection of the flatware.

It really was relatively unbelievable.

* * *

"I met James," Sirius began, standing on his chair so as to command the room's full attention and reading from the first of his cards, "when we were both six. See, we'd both been locked in the Ministry daycare because James's parents work there, o' course, and mine just make routine visits to blackmail people in positions of authority." His tone of voice became maybe a little too bitter towards the end, and he scowled for a moment before shaking his head and continuing, "Anyway, James and I, over a set of wooden blocks, decided that six was much too old to be in some stuffy _daycare _and quickly threw together a plan to escape.

"To make a long story short, James's father had to have a long talk with the bloke at the front desk of the Volatile Creatures Department, and I had to go to the hospital, but we've been best friends ever since."

He grinned at his audience, who laughed appreciatively, and Sirius, warming to his subject, said, "Of course, James disputes that version of events, and is shaking his head as I speak"—he was—"but he was much too young to remember, so we'll just go with mine.

"We remained friends. We saw each other through that long list of firsts that start when you turn about eleven or so: first day of Hogwarts—we got lost four times—first crushes—mine was on a girl called Calliope when I was twelve, James's was Gwendolyn something-or-other when he was thirteen; she punched you in the face once." He directed the last comment to James. "I don't remember why, though, do you?"

James shamelessly yelled in response, "I accidentally spilled a bottle of yak bile down her shirt and then tried to clean it up."

"That was it, yes," Sirius agreed, grinning and pointing to him. "You really don't have a steady hand for a Chaser, d'you?"

James shrugged. "My appointment to the team was a fluke. I'm now convinced it was simply because I look good on a broom."

"Oh, I completely agree," Sirius nodded before continuing, "When James was, oh, fourteen or so he set his sights on Miss Lily Evans." He made a sweeping sort of motion to Lily.

Raucous cheers and applause. James and Lily both laughed, though Lily was blushing. James, however, was enjoying the attention easily as much as Sirius was.

"James asked Lily out for the first time on—" He waited for James to fill in the blank.

"March 17, 1974," James supplied.

"—good God, that's pathetic that you know that—and was turned down. James was shocked. 'Kay, in case you've never met James, he's a bit full of himself. Likes to think he's God's gift to the world. Loves his hair and his eyes and just about every other aspect of his appearance. Thinks he's the smartest, wittiest, most charming person to grace the planet. So naturally, he was astonished at Lily's indifference to him. Surely, James thought, Lily had not heard the question correctly. He asked again. And again she said no. Determined to make an arse of himself, he asked again. And again. After the sixth or eleventh time, Lily stopped feeling sorry for him and started to get annoyed. She started looking up curses and made sure to arm herself with her wand whenever she left her room.

"This continued, much to the dismay of me and the rest of the school, for roughly two years. Pretty soon we were all on Lily's side: we were just as sick of James as she was." He turned to James and ruffled his hair affectionately. "I say that because I love you, Prongs," he added, "and I feel we can be honest with each other."

"That's starting now, yes?" James said dryly, tilting his head upward to face Sirius, his right eyebrow quirked.

"Later, duckling," Sirius practically sang. He was quite obviously in his element; surrounded by people hanging on his every word and laughing at all of his jokes. As such, he was becoming more charmingly obnoxious by the second. "We have comp-any.

"So anyhow, when we were seventeen, good old Jimmy finally wore Lily down. Actually, I'm still not unconvinced that she's under some form of the Imperious Curse, but James insists that she isn't, and she rarely looks glassy-eyed so I have to be a good friend and take his words at face value."

Sirius took a very dramatic pause here to delicately sip his champagne. After carelessly handing off the near-empty flute to the groom in question, he continued, "Well, my friends, I love James nearly as much as I love my leather jacket, but I am, among many other things, a realist. I did not expect the relationship to last very long, and I really don't think they did either."

"No," Lily agreed, maybe a little louder than she'd intended to.

"Right. They fought too much, over everything. They still do, come to that." His tone of voice became serious, and he picked up the champagne glass again, seemingly to have something to do with his hands. "And I admit that, maybe because of all that or maybe because of my own…insecurity or whatever, I've never exactly liked you, Lily."

The bride looked up from her hands.

"I've, um, always seen you as sort—sort of a threat. 'Cause James is my best friend, you know, and I—I—he means…a lot to me." Sirius carefully avoided James's eyes here, choosing to focus instead on the cuffs of his sleeves. "We had plans, you know. When I broke up with my first girlfriend, we—we promised each other that we'd be single forever, and—and we'd live together in this idealized bachelor pad for all eternity and stuff. And then he got…you, and I—he wasn't just…_my _James anymore—please, bear with me; that was the best way I could think to term it—he was yours, too, and I didn't—_don't_—like sharing him." He swallowed, with difficulty—it was clear he was trying not to cry. "And so I was terrible to you for a really long time, and I apologize."

"It's okay," Lily said softly.

"Yeah, but I'd like to thank you, actually. Because—okay, people…need people. You need a circle of people—friends and family and whatnot—around you in order for your life to go smoothly. You—you need people to support you when something goes wrong, and you need people to help you celebrate when something goes great." He swallowed again and glanced around the room. "Cl-clearly, I'm not telling this right, but the nub is that Remus, Peter, and I can't be the whole circle. His family, huge and wonderful as they are, can't be the whole circle. And, um, you can't have an incomplete circle. 'Cause…then it's not a circle, y'know, it's, er…a spherical shape with a great, gaping hole in it. But you, er, you complete the circle, Lily. So, er…thank you. On behalf of the other members of the James Potter circle." Sirius smiled and gave a little bow as the applause started. Lily rose to give him a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

"Why, Sirius," James cooed, propping his head up on his hand and fluttering his eyelashes at Sirius coquettishly as his friend took his seat. "I hadn't realized that your obsession with me had reached such an advanced stage."

"Stuff it, Potter," Sirius grumbled. "The next warm thing you'll hear from me will be at your funeral."

"Assuming, of course, that you outlive me," James said, grinning smarmily.

"Oh, I will," Sirius replied, tipping the last of his champagne down his throat. "I'll make sure of it, mate."

Lily remained standing, waiting for the straggling applauders to finish clapping. She was holding her own champagne glass and delicately touching her hair, as if making sure it was still there. When the applause died down, she said, visibly nervous, "I—I'm not very good at speaking in front of people, actually, but…I just wanted to share something with you." She tucked a flyaway strand of hair behind her ear as she fumbled around in the bag she'd had her mother carry for her until now. When her hand reappeared, a piece of paper—folded over several times—was clutched in it.

Turning this paper over and over in her hands, she continued, "Er, I'm a meticulous, analytical person. I make lists. I have to evaluate all aspects of something before I'll do it or say it, because usually, when I don't, it has disastrous consequences. Or maybe it doesn't, and my obsessive-compulsive personality has just convinced me it does. Anyway, James was the same way—or, rather, my decision to date James was the same way. I made…several lists, comparing his virtues to his vices, our commonalities to our differences, the benefits to the drawbacks of dating him…all of it.

"Really, by that time, I didn't mind him so much. I mean, yes, he annoyed me sometimes—a lot of the time—but I found him to be charming, funny, bright, and even occasionally sweet and compassionate. I just wasn't sure he would _stay_ that way, you know, if dating him would really be a good idea in the long run." Lily gave a sheepish smile. "I can be a bit melodramatic at times."

This comment was met with laughter, which encouraged her greatly, causing her to project her voice more when she said, "When I had all but ultimately decided that, yes, I was going to take a chance on him, I needed to know…why he liked me. So I asked, and he gave me this beautiful list of things that I swear he must've gotten out of a book, but my attempts to find out which one have been unsuccessful thus far."

"See how little confidence she has in my romantic side," James drawled, tugging absently at his hair and looking altogether pleased with himself.

"The fact that your shining moment, romance-wise, was four years ago gives me little reason to have such faith," Lily smiled.

James gasped in mock-fury before responding, "Lily Evans, how dare you suggest that I am anything short of a Lothario, a Casanova, a Rock Hudson where The Ladies are concerned?"

Lily laughed. "First of all, I knew you liked 'Pillow Talk'. Second of all, I'm afraid I'm no longer Lily Evans."

James grinned. "Too true. You win."

"As I always do." She paused, clearly flustered. "You made me forget where I was going," she accused jokingly, glancing up at the ceiling and thinking. "Okay, I remember. In return for James's spontaneous exaltation of the wonders of me, I decided to extol the wonders of him. I can't remember all I said, and it would be boring to read it all off to you, because it's _such _a long list"—the sarcasm in her tone was not lost on her audience—"but I did say that I enjoyed the way he smelled, his sense of humor, his persistence, and, maybe most importantly, his imperfections.

"Well, by the time we were nineteen or so, I was sort of…forced to reevaluate the relationship for reasons I really don't wish to go into right now, and when I did, I realized—after much…emotional hardship, I guess—that I had come to _love _those things about James, and many other things besides. It was after this that I finally got that this was quite possibly The Real Thing and I shouldn't do anything to damage my chances of keeping it."

Lily sucked in a breath, and her eyes began to glitter with tears. "See, I guess…everyone assumes that by the time you're thirteen or so, you've started to grow up, because of all the physical changes you're undergoing. But I understand now that even though I had been able to fill out low-cut shirts for a few years and I had graduated from school, I didn't really grow up until I was twenty years old. And I guess James made me do that. And so…I say thank you." She gave an embarrassed sort of bow, blushing and tucking her hair behind her ears as she returned to her seat, James pulling her to him for a kiss. When he pulled away, he whispered something in her ear that made her nod, then swipe at her eyes.

What did he say, you ask?

Even I don't know.

* * *

**A/N: **To answer a few of the questions I'm anticipating…

1) Is this a ploy for reviews?

No. Really. I'm just trying to actually finish the story so I can move on to my _next _project(s).

2) So, like, is Sirius…_ever _going to find out about Remus and Hestia?

I'm not at liberty to say…(::cough::nextchapter::cough::)

3) Will I have to wait till February to get the last chapter, you vengeful harpy?

Not likely. I'm on Christmas vacay, and I haven't got much left to do, so.

4) Um. Hello. What about the cake?

I know, I know, you're all on the edge of your seats wondering: chocolate? _Will it be chocolate? _In the words of Conan O'Brien, keep cool, my babies: all in due time.

Oh, and, um…review. Please. Because I really do love you, despite all evidence to the contrary.


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